Easy Tickets
by mal4prez
Summary: Serenity has a few guests come aboard, but they're not the welcome kind.
1. Part 1 of 9

**Easy Tickets: Part 1/9 (Chapters 1-3)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

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_Author's note__: This is a continuation of The Fish Job. As I mentioned in that story's header, these have been posted on fireflyfans and livejournal, so my apologies if you've seen them too many times! I want to post new chapters here, but need to get the old stuff up first. _

_This series of fics follows Objects in Space, and doesn't attempt to tie into the movie. Easy Tickets is 25 chapters and an epilogue, which I will post in nine parts. It's rated R for dark themes and a bit of sex, which I will probably tone down to non-explicit for posting here. (It wasn't so very explicit to start with, really... so no biggy.) Pairings are canon._

_Many thanks to fireflyfans members vera2529, LeeH, and Guenever for beta reading on Easy Tickets._

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**Chapter 1.**

The Firefly class transport was tucked away in a shallow dusty valley far from the city, but it was being watched.

A tall, gaunt man stood against a rock face at the lip of the valley, nearly invisible in a strip of shade cast by the mid afternoon sun. Even in full sunlight he'd have been hard to spot against the buff stone: his boots were scuffed, the blue of his denim pants had long ago gone gray, and his light brown shirt was covered by a ragged tan leather jacket that hung down to mid thigh. As was his habit, the right side of his coat was tucked behind the holster on his hip to keep his gun handy.

Ray Whittaker had a broad face that might have crinkled kindly if he ever smiled; as it was, he only looked a decade older than his forty some years. His skin had been toughened by summer's hot sun and winter's freezing wind, and constant squinting in the glare of dust and snow had formed deep lines around his cool blue eyes. A slight breeze lifted his thin sandy gray hair. He'd taken his hat off on account of its dark color; he didn't want to risk being seen, no matter how unlikely at this distance. Ray had been looking hard for this chance, and a better one was not like to come in time for his needs. He had to move careful.

"Will," Ray said softly. His deep voice matched his appearance: spare, just enough to get the job done and nothing wasted. "Glasses."

He held out a hand to the man crouched behind a boulder beside him. Will's coal-gray coat and dusty black clothes would have stood out, so he stayed low as he handed up a pair of field glasses. Ray lifted them to his eyes, pressing his back against the rock to keep the lenses out of the sun.

"How many are we facing?" Will asked, his mouth hanging open in a grin as he cracked his knuckles cheerfully. To Ray's relief, he didn't try to affect a border world accent out here. The man stank at it.

Ray studied the figures moving in front of the ship on the valley floor. He made sure of what he saw before he spoke.

"Six. Three guns, three soft."

Ray handed the glasses back down to Will, who stayed in the spotty shade of a large dead bush as he rose to his knees and had a look for himself. Ray waited patiently, something he didn't do for many people.

"I see what you're saying," Will said. "Three gunhands: the Browncoat, the dark woman… and some big guy." He snorted a short laugh. "He really likes his gun. He's petting it more than Ginger does hers." He glanced up at Ray with a grin; Ray pointedly returned a frown.

Will shrugged and turned back to the glasses, and to Ray's annoyance he continued to mutter to himself. "I never understood the need to fondle a weapon, no matter how shiny it is. It's not like you can screw it. Although, I wouldn't be surprised if this guy has tried."

Ray scowled at Will's laugh; it was no time to be chatty. But he held his tongue and waited for his partner in crime to size up the three civilians.

"That cutey who sweet talked Jase into buying the cables won't be a problem. The blond guy won't either, looks like a complete jackass." Will paused, and when he spoke again his tone wasn't so light. "Don't count the old man out. I don't like how he moves. Too smooth."

Ray nodded; he'd gotten through his share of scrapes, but he'd never been fool enough to think he knew everything. Ray had lived his whole life on this little world. Will, though he never talked it, had come from the Core, and sure as hell he'd been military. No matter how grating Will got, his counsel had weight.

"So, four fighters against our four guns," Ray summed up, "on their turf." He let his dour tone express his opinion.

"Sure, that's not the easiest," Will agreed. "But then again, Hank counts for more than one, the way he draws. And…" Will glanced over his shoulder at Ray, "we _could_ go in with five."

Ray tensed. This discussion shouldn't come up anymore. "Jase don't fight, you know that."

Will only shrugged and looked back at the ship.

Ray squinted to see what he could of the distant crew. One of the figures – the one with blond hair – went back into the hold.

"They have a shuttle missing," Will said.

Ray let out a heavy breath. Always more complications. "Won't be good if it shows while this is goin' down."

"You worry too much. Ginger can stay outside, scare it off."

"Leaves only three of us to – " Ray started, but was interrupted by Will's sharp laugh.

"Ha! What have we here?" Will leaned forward and propped his elbows on a rock to steady his view. "Jīng căi, there's a hatch on top, propped wi-ide open."

"Can you get to it?" Ray asked.

"The Firefly is a well designed ship, but she's not the most aerodynamic. I can climb the ass end of her."

Ray considered it; a second entry point might just give him the upper hand. "Let's move quick, fore they take off," he said. He started to turn away, but then he froze and watched close when a hovercraft pulled out of the belly of the ship, the blond hair of the driver glinting in the sun. After more discussion amongst the distant crew, the scooter loaded up and went on its way over the far end of the valley, leaving a trail of yellow dust.

Will gave a dry laugh. "Now how about that – their six guns is down to two. All we have is a washed up Browncoat and an old man between us and the good life."

Will seemed to think the ship was theirs already, and Ray scowled again. Will may know spaceships and guns and the like, but he was too gorram cheery. Hadn't seen enough real life, didn't know how quick things could go to shit.

Ray watched the two remaining figures walk back into the ship, leaving the bay door open. Will chuckled again at their carelessness, but Ray didn't take time to enjoy the moment. There was work to be done.

"Smile, Ray!" Will said with a grin as he tucked the glasses back into his coat pocket. "We just scored an easy ticket out."

Ray didn't smile. He turned to make his way down the back side of the hill, pausing briefly to pluck his hat off a dead branch and settle it on his head.

"Ain't nothin' on this world easy," he muttered.

.*. .*. .*.

Five days ago

Malcolm Reynolds stood at the edge of his ship's open cargo bay door with his hands on his hips, his dark blue button down shirt sticking wetly to his back. The door wasn't quite all the way open; it stuck straight out, making a horizontal platform that extended over the edge of the dark gray rock _Serenity_ was perched on. What Mal saw a few meters below the open door presented him a slight quandary; a decision needed to be made. He fanned the front of his shirt to cool himself as he considered his options.

A piercing shriek from inside the ship made him jump and turn around, then move quickly aside. A howling blur of white skin, spiky blond hair, and yellow and green flowered boxer shorts came tearing through the airlock and launched itself off the edge of the platform. Mal stepped back to avoid the splash of water that came up a second later.

"Hell yeah!" Jayne called out as he followed Wash across the bay at a more dignified pace. He stopped in the airlock and casually stripped himself down to his skin, then turned back to yell into the bay, "Any a' you lady-folk comin'? Cause I'm a'gonna jump in any second now and you're gonna miss out!" Jayne stretched his arms overhead. No way he'd miss a chance to show off his physique after all the time he spent at the weight bench.

"Captain, can I shoot him and spare us all the horror?" Zoë asked as she stepped off the stairs near the airlock, holding up a hand to shelter her eyes from the horror in question. She was wearing a tank top and a somewhat sedately patterned pair of Wash's boxers, and had a couple of towels slung over her shoulder.

"Only if his carcass falls in the water," Mal answered. "You know how I dislike a messy ship."

"She ain't even got a gun," Jayne said in disgust, resting his fists on his hips.

Zoë dropped her towels and slapped her hand to her forehead. "What was I thinkin'? Mama always told me to take my pistol along to the swimmin' hole..." Her voice fell as she gave Jayne a pointed look. "...in case some overgrown perv shows up."

Jayne's argument was a short snort, but Zoë ignored him, tying her long curly hair back as she turned to call out the door, "How is it dear?"

"Holy mother of Buddha! You have no idea!" Wash's voice echoed through the open airlock. "The view is awful though. Jayne, could you please get your chŏu è de pìgu in the water so I don't have to look at it?" A splash caught the mercenary's back.

Mal watched Zoë dive in, then turned to start up the stairs she'd just come down. Jayne had solved his dilemma for him: walking around naked after getting swindled by his troublesome pseudo-wife was one thing, but being in the same class of tacky as Jayne wasn't acceptable. He'd take a minute to find some clothes to swim in.

As he entered the corridor outside the crew quarters, Kaylee was just stepping off her ladder. She was wearing a smile bigger than her cutoff tank top and shorts combined. Mal averted his eyes – it was like seeing a little sister in a state of undress – just not right.

"Good lord, Kaylee, who are you wearin' that get-up for?"

Her smile turned a bit crooked. "You really gotta ask?"

He looked back at her. "Oh no. You ain't even. I do not need any more shipboard sweethearts makin' trouble so you better – "

Kaylee tilted her head in frustration and interrupted him. "Cap'n, I _live_ on this ship, all the dang time! If there ain't no shipboard lovin', there ain't _nothin'_." She kept her rant going as she walked toward him, shaking an accusatory finger. "Now that may be okay for you, mister I-ain't-got-no-hormones, but it ain't workin' out so well for me!"

"I got hormones!" Mal said defensively as she walked past him.

"Well, what you got you store up for helpless lookin' women tryin' to steal our ship! What good does that do anybody?" She cast him a dark look as she turned the corner.

Mal frowned after her a second, then yelled, "I got hormones a'plenty."

There was no reply. As he started down the ladder into his bunk. he found himself wondering what a Registered Companion would have for swimwear. Most like he'd be finding out soon.

He returned to the cargo bay a few minutes later wearing only the knee length black pants he normally slept in. Simon and Book were standing on the platform, watching some game that involved much noise-making and splashing. Shepherd Book didn't appear to have plans to partake; he was fully dressed and stood to the side and back out of the splash zone. Simon, however, was right on the edge, wearing only a pair of baggy pants and smiling uncertainly at the antics below. Since the doctor didn't hear him coming, Mal took the opportunity to give him a casual shove, then waved innocently when Simon came up spluttering.

Mal didn't have long to enjoy his prank; he felt a hand on his own back and in he went, nearly landing on top of Kaylee. He surfaced to see a copy of his own innocent wave from Book. The preacher had to nimbly jump off the side of the platform onto the rocks to escape the armful of water Mal aimed at him.

"And you doubted me!" Wash yelled from behind Mal.

Mal turned in the water, "What? _Me?_ What'd I doubt?"

Wash's voice turned high and whiny as his hands waved over his head in mock panic. "No, we can't land _there_! It's so near the scary water! You'll wreck my pretty ship and I'll have to shoot you and then Zoë'll shoot me and – "

Wash's falsetto hysterics were cut off when Zoë pushed his head under. Mal kicked himself over to join them, and pushed Wash down again as soon as the pilot came up. The following water battle went on for some time, drawing in Kaylee, Simon, and Jayne, and eventually forcing Book to wonder off to drier places.

When things settled down a bit, Mal looked around for his two missing crew members. He spotted River floating on her back about twenty meters out, studying the sky. The inland sea was big enough to have a bit of surf that focused in their little cove, and the girl's body tipped slowly side to side in the waves. Further beyond her he saw a dark head and two arms smoothly cutting toward the mouth of the cove. Mal put his own head down and started out into the open water. On his way, he dove under River and give a little push to the small of her back. When he came up on her far side he dodged her half-hearted splashes with a laugh, then continued on his way.

The water was warm, almost too warm given the temperature of the air and the heat of the late afternoon sun. It was like the ponds on Shadow in midsummer, warm enough to stay in after the sun set and the air cooled. And it was fresh and clean – no engine exhaust or factory run-off on this remote world they'd happened on.

Mal hadn't had a good swim since he'd left home; he'd near forgotten how it felt. The freedom and weightlessness of it stripped the years off him. He found himself smiling still as he angled toward Inara, grinning like a kid on summer holiday with all his chores done for the day.

.*. .*. .*.

Jayne drifted a few meters from the ship, watching Kaylee watch Simon. The doctor was half out of the water, an elbow hooked through the cargo net that hung down from the platform, his free arm wiping at his reddened eyes.

"This water is full of… dirt or something!" Simon said.

"Hey, I ain't peed in it," Jayne said with a grin. "Not yet anyhow."

Simon looked at Jayne with disgust. "I don't know how you manage to surpass yourself, but there you go again." He climbed further out of the water.

"Oh come on. Simon!" Kaylee was holding the bottom of the netting like she was waiting for the doctor to quit his fussing and drop back in.

"It's nature, doc," Jayne said, enjoying how easy it was to creepify the lad. "Water's plum full a' fish poop and dead animals and all kinds of green stuff. A little piss don't hurt nothin'."

Simon's look of disgust turned to something near nausea, and he climbed up another step. "You can't be serious."

"Ain't you ever gone swimmin' before?" Kaylee asked, and she made a grab for his foot.

"In a pool. A civilized pool where people control their bodily functions." Simon shook her off and grabbed ahold of the edge of the platform to heave himself up.

Kaylee frowned and called after him, "He was only kiddin'!" She looked back at Jayne. "Weren't ya?"

"Don't go speakin' for me," Jayne told her.

Simon disappeared from sight, and Kaylee still hung on the net, swallowing her disappointment. "Jayne, what'd ya have ta scare him off for?" she asked in a low voice.

"Ain't exactly hard to do," Jayne replied loudly. "Pansy's scared a' his own – "

A curled up body hit the water directly between Kaylee and Jayne. Simon didn't have an evil cackle in him, but he did manage an excellent mischievous grin when he came up and saw both of his targets wiping their eyes.

When Kaylee could see well enough to recognize the source of the cannonball attack, she happily tumbled off the cargo net, landing square on top of the doctor.

.*. .*. .*.

Book smiled at the distant sound of Kaylee's delighted shrieks. This world had a hot climate, and he meant to join in the swimming at some point, but for now he was content to stretch his legs and breathe the fresh, clean air.

No one was sure just how bad the Alliance wanted to find Mal, but it was clear that the crew ought to lay low for a spell. The few fueling stops made in the past month had been handled by Zoë and Jayne, so most of the crew hadn't been off Serenity since they'd left New Melbourne.

Book wandered the open space around the ship, watching birds flit between the trees that lined the natural landing pad. It was an ideal spot to park, and the break was exactly what the crew needed. A soul couldn't stay in the black forever. Everyone needed to see greenery, to feel the energy of life and health around them.

He ambled into a patch of tall evergreens. The ground was spongy with fallen needles and the trees were bare of branches for a good ten meters. It created a quiet voluminous space empty of all but dark vertical trunks like columns in a cathedral. The air was cooler here, and smelled of fresh pine and wholesome earth.

Book stopped to drink in the moment, giving thanks to have found such a place. Then his face broke into a wry smile. If the place was all he was grateful for, he supposed he should be tipping his figurative cap to the terraforming crews of the Alliance.

No, it wasn't just this place. It was his ability to leave his cares behind and appreciate what was before him at this moment. Book hadn't always been the kind of man to be aware of such beauty, even when it was as obvious as this.

He crossed himself and bowed his head in the silence.

.*. .*. .*.

Jayne was soon bored by Kaylee and Simon ignoring him, and he went looking for other entertainment

Wash and Zoë had exited the games fairly early; they were busy exploring the irregular rock face, probably looking for a dark cavern to duck into for some private underwater amusement. The captain was on his way out to make trouble with Inara, and Book was off exploring the woods. That left only one person for Jayne to make sport with.

He couldn't deny that River unnerved him a bit. It was nothing to be ashamed of; she was a crazy mind-reading sharp shooter and gods knew what else. It was just common sense to use care around a person like that, no matter how young she was or how little she weighed.

"Whacha doin', nutjob?" he asked from a safe couple of meters away. The only parts of her he could see above the water's surface were her face, hands, and the occasional toe as she cycled her legs to keep her skinny body afloat. Her eyes were wide open and fixed straight up.

Jayne waited a bit, then figured that her ears were underwater as well as her brain. He ducked his mouth under the surface and repeated his question.

"I heard you the first time," she said.

"So?"

He waited, and was almost ready to give up and return to harassing Kaylee and Simon when River said in a distant voice, "It's like being stuck in a ceiling, looking down into a round room. A crystal clear bowl shaped room. Blue walls topped in green."

"Huh?" Jayne replied in confusion.

She lifted a slender leg into the air, foot pointed, then bent her knee and circled her lower leg.

"Ceiling fan," she said.

Jayne had to think about that. Then he tilted his head as far as he could to the side, almost upside down. Frighteningly, he thought he might understand what she was up to. Mighty weird. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that no one was paying them any attention, then he settled into a back float next to her.

"Tip your head back," River instructed, "so you can see the shore and the horizon all around." She glanced over to see Jayne doing as she said before she continued. "Now, look up at the sky, but think about your peripheral vision."

"My what?"

She didn't miss a beat. "The surface of the water, where it meets the sky, is a circle all around you. It's like the ceiling on a giant bowl shaped room made of blue glass."

They quietly drifted for a while before Jayne said "Huh" again. This time the sound was tinged with reluctant understanding.

"Pretend the ceiling is made of gelatin that you can move your arms and legs in, but if you move too much you might slip out of it, and you'll go plunging into the bowl. Fall until you smash through the glass and break the sky."

Jayne was still for a few more seconds, then he suddenly pulled himself vertical with a nervously muttered, "Gorram, you are one frackin' loon!"

River laughed as she slowly swished her arms and legs around her. "Don't be afraid, you can't really fall upwards."

"I ain't afraid," Jayne said with disgust, and he stretched out of his back again to prove it.

After a few minutes, River asked him, "Do you see it?"

Jayne didn't want to admit it, but she probably already knew. "Yeah," he said grudgingly. He lacked River's leg flexibility, so he held his arm up and circled it. "Ceiling fan," he said with a chuckle.

"You don't need to use your arm," she told him.

"Why not?"

"Your diăo is sticking up."

Jayne looked down his body, then quickly ducked his hips underwater. "Yesu, you ain't supposed to be lookin' at that!"

Unfazed, River continued to float, but with a smirk on her face. "You shouldn't let it stick out of the water, dirty old man. Put some clothes on."

"Cap walks around nekked."

"Captain's not a dirty old man."

"I ain't…" Jayne's face pinched in annoyance. "It's a natural thing that happens, is all. I ain't no perv. I don't like little girls."

"I know."

"It's just the warm water."

She sighed, like she was getting bored with this now. "I know."

Jayne looked around, again relieved that the whole crew was occupied with their own business. "You ain't gonna tell nobody, are ya?"

River pulled herself up and looked Jayne in the eye, her face and voice steadfastly serious.

"Jayne?"

"What?"

"I really don't care what your diăo is doing."

Jayne frowned, not sure if he was relieved or insulted. Not care? How could somebody, a female no less, not even care?

"Can you do a somersault?" River asked, then she disappeared with a small splash, surfacing a second later with a sheet of wet hair covering her face. "Like that," she burbled.

"Course."

She flipped her hair back. "Show me! But keep your butt underwater. I'm already emotionally scarred."

Jayne sneered at her for a second, then he took a deep breath and dove forward into the water.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal caught up to Inara without being noticed, and took advantage of the opportunity.

"Shèng hémă!" she swore, spinning awkwardly toward him. He dodged the foot that swung by his face as she pulled her knee out of his grip.

"Shouldn't be swimmin' alone out here," he said with a grin. "I might a'been a sea monster."

"Are you implying that you're not?" she replied, then she ducked under the water and came up with her head back, shaking her hair out of her face. Her white swim top made her bronze skin look golden, and the smooth lines of it perfectly fit her curves. Mal couldn't help but notice; his grin broadened.

"Well, if I was, I might be pullin' ya along to my lair in the deeps bout now."

"I'm shuddering in fear," she said dryly, but he saw a small smile before she turned to be discrete about clearing her nose of water.

"You should be scared." Mal was feeling recklessly playful, and he drifted closer, his head low in the water as he stalked her. "Sea monsters been known to do some mighty bad things." He made another grab for her leg, but Inara slipped sideways and circled behind him.

"Such as?"

He turned to follow her. "Mayhap I got a nest a' hungry little sea monsters to feed."

Inara turned away to glance toward shore. "That you certainly do."

Before she could turn back, some juvenile urge had Mal diving forward to grab her around the waist, and he pulled her under with him. There was a long second where the length of her back pressed against his side, and her hair above him made a dark cloud against the streaks of green light penetrating the water. Then she turned in his arms and he felt her hand on his chest, but only to push him away as she twisted free.

When Mal came up, Inara had distanced herself from him and was wiggling a finger in her ear. "Very charming, Captain," she said shortly.

The title caught him off guard, but he tried to ignore it. "Sea monsters ain't never been known for charm."

"So I see." Her voice was laced with irritation, and now he could see no hidden smile.

"Come on, nara," he said, confused by her change of attitude. "Why you bein' so an-ti-social? Come join the fun!" He splashed a little water at her.

She held up her hands to block the splash, then wiped her eyes with a look of annoyance. "I'm not antisocial. I just want to get some exercise, to enjoy the space and the _quiet_." Slightly winded from the effort of speaking while treading water, Inara tilted to float on her back and catch her breath.

Inara floated higher in the water than River, and she had more parts that broke the surface. Mal thought it best that he follow both her example and look at the sky for a while. He tipped back and let the soft waves cradle him.

"It is nice to be out in the open, ain't it?" he murmured, trying to figure her mood. She hadn't been tetchy like this in a while. "Blue sky, sunshine, lots a' greenery." When she didn't answer, he smirked and tilted his head to glance toward her. "Not an _entirely unpleasant_ day for swimmin'." He hoped to get under her skin with that, but she didn't even seem to notice.

"Let's just hope the greenery is full of edible game and non-poisonous plants," she said, "or your crew of hungry monsters may turn mutinous."

Mal didn't reply; he'd almost forgotten the real reason they'd landed here. His good mood dissipated as he recalled the state of things on his ship. They weren't out of money yet, but what they had was being saved for fuel and the odd chance that they'd find cargo to invest in. With a sigh, he let his ears sink under water to muffle everything but the sound of his own breathing. When he realized Inara was speaking again, he pulled his head up.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I said this is fascinating, but I'd like to keep swimming. I haven't had a water workout since I left the House."

"Yeah, guess you don't get much exercise. Outside of a bed, that is." It was the kind of smartass thing he tried not to say to her anymore, but it slipped out before he could stop it.

"Actually, there hasn't been much of that kind of exercise either," she replied testily.

"What, are you feelin' a mite… tense bout it?" he asked, trying to bring back the playfulness.

"Not at all," Inara snapped. "I'm feeling a _mite_ unemployed, and that's not what I pay you rent for."

Surprised at the venom in her voice, Mal didn't answer. He closed his eyes and slipped down into the quiet darkness, letting his arms float above him. Dìyù, what was he supposed to do, feel bad that she couldn't find clients on planets like this, worlds with nothing but farmers? He couldn't take the ship near any place civilized enough for folks to be spending their coin on sex, not after what had happened on Oeneus. _Serenity_ had to stay far out on the rim; there wasn't a thing to be done about that.

When he broke the surface again Inara was already a good distance away, sliding almost silently through the water. He rolled onto his back again and began to slowly kick his way back toward the shore.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara settled into a smooth rhythm, breathing every other stroke and pausing occasionally to open her eyes and check her location. It had been so long, she'd forgotten the calming effect of moving through warm water.

Swimming had been her preferred workout at House Madrassa. Done a certain way, it exercised the heart and lungs, lightly sculpted the upper body and abdomen, but didn't build lower body muscles which would be deemed unattractive by the type of men she marketed herself to. At the House she'd swam in the indoor pool, confined to a roped off lane, watching the black stripe pass beneath her and checking the clock after every lap.

She came to think of her time in the pool as meditative, one part of her mind focused on her technique and lap times, the rest of her thoughts free to roam where they would. Here, in an open sea where she kept her eyes closed against the algae and there was no need to worry about technique, her entire mind was free to wander.

She couldn't escape regret over the way she'd just dismissed Mal. He'd clearly been feeling better than he had in the past month, maybe more at ease then she had ever seen him, and she'd cut him down. He hadn't even realized that she'd done it deliberately. But defending herself against him was an instinct she couldn't suppress.

If only she'd taken a ride with the first freighter she'd contacted on New Melbourne, insisted on heading to the Core no matter the cost or delay. But she hadn't, and _Serenity_ had left in a hurry and she'd missed her chance. Then Mal had gone missing on Oeneus, before she could even begin to look for transport, and when the crew got him back he'd been in bad shape. On the verge of insanity, falling to pieces after what the Alliance had done to him. It was the only time she'd ever seen the man out of control of himself.

Even after his ordeal with Niska, Mal had been more concerned with the crew then himself, his post-torture soreness amounting to nothing more than a joke. What happened on Oeneus was a different matter. The Alliance had torn into his mind, and that's something even a very strong willed man can't pull himself out of. He'd needed help, but would never have admitted it. It had taken a significant amount of desperation on his part and a bit of trickery on hers to make him to take a smoother and finally get the rest he needed to heal.

Inara paused to tread water and look back toward shore. She was surprised to find herself so far out that it took a few seconds to locate the ship against hills glowing orange in the sunset. She aimed herself toward _Serenity_ and started back.

What a relief it had been to see him let go, slouching on the sofa in her shuttle with a serene smile, telling her that he felt 'nice.' Inara had to pause in her swimming as a small laugh broke out of her at the memory. The man could be downright disarming when he let himself. Sea monster, indeed. It made her wonder what he'd been like, back before the war. She shook her head at her lack of mental discipline. It did no good to think of the past; she should know that as well as anyone.

She checked her direction again and swam on.

She could have gotten Mal to take the smoother using only deception, but she'd known that the drug would make him drop his defenses. He would have resented her for fooling him like that, and rightly so. His pain was private; she had no more right to it than the Alliance did. So Inara had given him a fair return. She'd told him how she'd been hurt once too, violated in body like he'd been violated in mind. That had allowed him to trust her, to see that the help she offered came from empathy, not pity, and he could accept it with his pride intact.

Inara kicked harder at the water. That had been an even trade, she should have left it at that. But she'd only made a mess of things when she kissed him. He'd blamed himself the next day, apologizing like he'd forced himself on her, but she knew that she was the one at fault.

Thinking he was asleep, his face peaceful after days of being drawn and defensive, she'd kissed his forehead. That was all she'd meant to do, and there was no harm in that. But he hadn't been fully asleep. She'd felt his fingers gentle on her cheek and he turned toward her, eyes still closed, and without thinking she'd leaned down to brush her lips against his. He'd kissed her back, soft and sensual and intense, but so very different from the sexual intensity of the art she practiced.

Merciful Buddha, the sweetness of it had melted her through – and she'd barely kept herself from sobbing when Mal fell away from her, finally asleep, leaving her alone with the unbearable impossibility of it.

Inara realized that her shoulders were aching from the power of her strokes and she made herself stop. She rolled onto her back to drift and catch her breath, grateful that the water blended with the tears that welled in her eyes, rinsing them away.

Gods, if only she'd kept her mouth shut the next day, and not told him that the kiss _wasn't unpleasant_, words he could and would use against her at any time. She shouldn't have said anything because now he knew. Now they both knew and couldn't hide behind their bickering like they used to.

She needed that wall between them again, even if she had to build it herself. She'd been too free with him since Oeneus; it had to stop. For Buddha's sake, he'd just pulled her underwater, touching her and holding her against him like that was some right he had. As if she would ever allow it to happen. She shouldn't have let it get so far.

Distant shouts reached her and Inara realized that the sky she was staring into was turning a dark blue. She looked toward the sound and saw that the warm light of the cargo bay wasn't far. Towel covered bodies beckoned her home for supper; she waved back and started toward them at a lazy breast stroke.

She shouldn't have allowed anything to change between her and Mal. It would only make matters worse, because nothing had really changed.

She still had to leave.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
jīng căi: brilliant  
chŏu è de pì gu: ugly butt  
diăo: penis  
shèng hé mă: holy hippopotamus  
dì yù: hell

* * *

**Chapter 2.**

Will hummed to himself as he followed Ray down the barren hillside. He could read annoyance in the tense set of Ray's shoulders, but that just brought a loose smile to Will's tanned face. Ray was a good contact, and it tickled Will to no end that Ray'd brought him in on this job, but the guy really needed to lighten up.

Will glanced up the sky, the most interesting thing to look at on this crappy rock. It was near midsummer, so the sun stayed well above the planetary rings all day. The curving section of the rings directly below the sun reflected white light brightly, then faded off into the blue of the sky to either side. The crystalline outer rings were the impressive; the minerals in them scattered sunlight into a pattern of colors, forming a spectacular arc that could be followed from horizon to horizon.

His toe caught on a crag, reminding him to watch the ground under his feet. No matter how shiny the sky, the land wasn't something to be taking your eyes off for long. The stone was uneven and hard, with no soil to cover it. Dead brush and fallen tree limbs never rotted here, they just dried up into dust and blew away.

He hadn't seen what the world was like Before, as locals referred to it, but now the whole gorramn place was a crematorium, slowly shriveling away to nothing. He'd never have _chosen_ to come here; no one in their right mind would spend any more time on this dead planet than they had to. But he went where his orders told him to go. So far, his stay on this world had been on the dull side, but that looked to be changing in the very near future.

The two men reached a last rough outcrop and Will followed Ray's example, crouching and using his hands to scramble down. They found the others where they'd left them, gathered in the shade of one of the few trees still standing, dead though it was.

"Gather up," Ray said to the others, motioning to the ground in front of him.

Ginger was reclining on a rock, her shoulder length grey-brown hair pinned back out of her eyes. She was looking over her rifle, frowning at the dust which she could never be free of on this world. That woman cared for her weapon like it was her firstborn. In a way, Will knew, it was.

He nodded to her. When they first met he'd had to salute. She'd been in the service a good five years longer than he and could have earned command of their unit, but Ginger wanted nothing more than a comfy place to sit and a target to aim at. That was just one of the things he liked about her: the lack of complications. She'd gotten a little plump since the war ended, and her hair had greyed, but she shot true as ever and was just as lively in the sack. Or, against the wall. He couldn't hide a smirk and he stuck a thumb in his belt, recalling the morning's play.

Hank sat apart from Ginger, the dusty ground around him spattered with pools of spittle from his chew. The man hadn't been anywhere near a razor, a brush, or likely a bar of soap in a long while. He stank to high heaven. He was a strange one, hardly spoke, but rumor had it that Hank was the best shot around. Quick and cool on the draw. Will didn't know about all that, but Ray said the man did what he was told without arguing, and that was enough.

The boy Jase was over by the old transport pod that had brought them out from the city, slouching in the dust with his black hair hanging over his face. He was still in his teens, sixteen he'd said when Will asked. Will hadn't believed him at first; Jase looked younger than that on account of his small size. But, like Ray, Jase's eyes showed that the times he'd survived added up to more than the years he'd been alive. Also like Ray, Jase didn't smile much.

Ginger and Hank gathered around Ray, who nodded to Will. Ray wasn't much of a talker; he preferred to let Will lay out the plan. Will nodded back and crouched in the dust, using a stick to draw a rough schematic of the Firefly. He'd spent time on one before; he knew the layout.

"Ginger," he said, keeping his tone impersonal, "set up out front so you can see into the bay, and help out if it comes to shooting. But mainly you need to keep watch in case the shuttle or the hovercraft come back. Do what you need to scare them away.

"Hank, you'll go in the front with Ray. You two have a nice friendly palaver with whoever you find while I go in the top way. Be ready to draw, but don't kill anyone unless you have to. We may need them alive to help out later."

Will pulled his bandanna out of his back pocket to pat the sweat off his face as he studied Hank, trying to see if the man had caught all that. Hank looked like he should be headman of some loony cult. Behind his thick brows, his eyes narrowed in what might have been disappointment, but then he shrugged and turned away to spit.

Will shoved the bandanna in his back pocket and continued telling what he knew. "They have at least two on board. One's the Browncoat I met in town; he's got a gun, and he's sure to know how to use it. The other's an old man, no gun but take care; he's seen action."

"Uh… Will?" Jase asked tentatively from where he still sat against the transport. "What'm I doin'?"

Will looked over, noticing how the kid's lip had swelled up since the morning, but the question wasn't Will's to answer.

Not for the first time, Will wondered about the story behind Ray and Jase. With straight black hair and tilted green eyes, Jase didn't look a bit like Ray, and they sure didn't act like family. For a brief time, Will had supposed that the old guy was sly and liked his sport young. Wouldn't be exactly rare; the Cartel that had done the terraforming on this planet kept business largely in the family, and that didn't include Chinese. Most black-haired folk on this world had been imported for specific purposes: mostly grown men for labor and young women for wives, but there were always other things some folks would pay for. Not too many reasons for a boy Jase's age to be here with no family to take care of him.

But that notion had died quickly. Ray avoided Jase like a bad smell. The man was quick with a heavy hand when the kid did something stupid – like just that morning – but other than that didn't talk to him or even look at him if he didn't have to.

Ray spoke up without looking away from the diagram in the dust. "Stay with the transport. I'll send for you after we're in." Ray didn't wait for a response; he glanced around at the rest of his bunch. "We got real lucky bout the small crew, gotta get in and get gone quick. Let's move."

.*. .*. .*.

Four days ago

Mal roused Zoë, Jayne, and Book just before sunrise. After a visit to the weapons locker and a brief hunting safety lecture (delivered by Mal, mainly addressing Jayne), stressing the importance of not shooting in the direction of the ship, Book and Jayne set off in one direction and Mal and Zoë in the other.

Kaylee and Wash came down the ramp an hour later and went about setting up a filtration system and a series of pipes to fill _Serenity_'s water tanks. The conversion of atmospheric oxygen to liquid form for storage was more complicated than the water filtering; they had to take turns watching over it while it ran, constantly chipping off ice that formed on the connectors.

Simon had his own task, with River to assist him. He brought out his handheld computer loaded with a horticultural encyclopedia and searched the area around the ship for greenery to round out the crew's diet until they could stock up on supplements.

Simon was feeling pleased with River's state. Ever since they left New Melbourne nearly a month ago, she'd been remarkably stable. Almost like the little sister he remembered. He'd kept her on a steady dosage of smoothers, and her system hadn't broken them down yet. It had been a weight off his shoulders to see her happily passing the days playing games with Kaylee on the ship, and even to see her swimming with Jayne the day before.

"River, I found something!" he called after a while. She skipped over to him, and he showed her a plant and its picture on the screen. She plucked a leaf and chewed a corner of it, then made an expressive face.

"It's better than scurvy," Simon said.

"You've had scurvy?"

"Well… no."

"Then how do you know?" She spat out the leaf and made a face like a gagging cat. "Tăo yàn!"

"Fine. See if you can do better." He held the little computer out to her.

River's eyes narrowed at the challenge; she took the computer and turned away. Simon worked on stripping leaves from the plant he'd found and putting them into a bag; by the time he finished, she'd disappeared. He left the bag of leaves on an outcrop and went looking for his wayward sister.

He found her a short distance into the woods, standing on the edge of a clearing, the little computer held loosely in her left hand. Her head was tilted to the side and her eyes were unfocused. Simon felt worry tighten his stomach; he hadn't seen that look on her face in weeks. He took the computer out of her hand before she could drop it.

"Mèi mei, did you find something?" he asked cautiously.

She started out her reverie and looked at him. "Belong here."

"Who does?"

She held up her right hand; it was balled into a fist. She squeezed and watched with detached interest as a rivulet of red ran down the underside of her arm and dripped off her elbow.

"River, what did you – " Simon grabbed her wrist and forced her hand open. A rich, sweet smell rose from a pulpy mass of dark red lying on her palm. He smiled in relief. "Raspberries."

River studied the crushed fruit in her hand. "Have all they need. Sun, water, food. Belong here, all together. Have a job to do."

She shifted her eyes toward the clearing beside them; it was filled with heavily-laden berry bushes. Simon's smile widened. "Ai ya! Everyone will be so happy! Especially Kaylee." He started to congratulate her with a hug, but she stopped him, a look of growing desperation in her eyes.

"I just found them," she said. "Didn't make them. The bushes make the berries."

"Of course you don't _make_ berries, you pick them," Simon said, confused.

"You don't understand. It's not what I – " She tipped her hand so that the crushed berries slid to the ground, then looked up at the treetops in frustration. He saw that her eyes were sparkling with tears.

"I'm sorry," Simon told her. "If you could just explain to me, I want to under – "

"Can't explain! Don't know." She wiped at a falling tear, leaving a red smear over her cheek and mouth. Simon didn't have anything to wipe her face with but his sleeve. He tried, but she pushed his hands away.

"Don't you see?" She stared into the clearing again as she tried to speak evenly. "They are… what they are. Don't need to fight. Well, fine." She held her hands up and shook her head like she was arguing with someone. "Weeds, bugs. It freezes or it doesn't rain enough. But they know about that. That's all… how it is. Natural. Nature."

She paused and licked at the juice on her lips, then her fingertips. She turned to him with a teary smile. "See? Sweet. Wholesome and sweet because it's what they do. How they work. In their nature." Her eyes on Simon's were full of the need to understand and be understood.

"I'm sorry River, I don't… I'm not sure – "

She cut him off in a forceful voice. "I am not a raspberry bush, Simon."

He took a breath to respond, but was unsure of what to say.

"It's not what I do!" Her face twisted with a wrenching look of frustration, then she gave up and turned away.

"River, wait!" Simon called after her. He followed as she ran through the woods, but she was quicker and lighter on her feet and outdistanced him. She sprinted past Kaylee and Wash where they worked by the ship, then paused at the edge of the water to yank off her boots and dress. Before Simon could catch up she dove in and was swimming away, her head underwater so she couldn't hear him calling after her.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë and Mal returned an hour before high noon feeling mighty; Zoë carried two fat rabbits and Mal proudly slung a wild turkey. They found a fire burning in a pit a safe distance from the ship, where Kaylee and Book were building a large smoker out of an empty cargo canister. Back toward the trees, Jayne was cleaning out a bear carcass that had to weigh damn near twice as much as he did. Mal frowned as he looked at his skinny turkey, and Zoë held up her rabbits, squinting as she compared them to the bear.

"I think he won, sir."

"Pffft," Mal replied in disgust. He set his turkey next to Jayne. "See to this when you're done. Crew'll be thankful to have a little fowl after all that greasy bear meat." Jayne looked up with a grin; Mal wasn't fooling him a bit.

Zoë stayed to help deal with the game while Mal checked on Wash's progress. The water tanks were full, but the oxygen chiller would need to run for much of the afternoon. Then Mal noticed Inara and Simon sitting on the rocks near the sea and headed their way.

"You've got the greens?" he asked Simon.

Simon looked his shoulder. "Yes… well, I found some edible plants but I haven't gathered them yet."

Mal looked out over the water. "I understand the scenery is real pretty, but you have work to do, Doc."

"He's not looking at the scenery, Mal," Inara interjected. "River's been in the water for nearly two hours. We're keeping an eye on her."

Mal looked out and found the face, hands and feet of the girl floating in the water. "She all right?"

"She was upset about the raspberries," Simon said distantly.

Mal arched a brow in disbelief. "Raspberries are upsetting?"

Simon didn't respond, but Inara rose to her feet. "It's all right, Simon. You watch River, I'll take care of it."

"Take care of what?" Mal asked, turning to follow her toward the firepit.

"He told me where the patch is; I'll gather some berries for lunch."

He shrugged. "Fine. I'll come along," he said, his tone casual.

Inara smiled graciously. "That really isn't necessary."

"You can't go out there by yourself."

She stopped at the pile of supplies next to the firepit. "I won't. Kaylee was planning on coming with me."

"Huh?" Kaylee said when she heard her name, and looked up from the door she was attaching to her improvised meat smoker.

"You were planning on coming with me to pick raspberries," Inara explained.

"Ras – ? Oh, raspberries! Yeah, that's right I was!"

"Kaylee, you have work to do," Mal said firmly.

"I'm sure Book can handle it," Inara said as she found a large basket out of the pile of goods, then she turned to the Shepherd. "Can't you?"

"Actually, we are about done here, Captain," Book said, taking a screwdriver from Kaylee.

Mal glared at Book before he replied to Inara. "As Jayne has discovered, there are bears out there, and they do like berries. Specially as appetizers to tasty humans such as yourself."

"Tasty?" Jayne asked with a curious look at the Inara, then back at Mal.

Mal stammered a bit. "I just meant that she's… human, and humans are… tasty. To bears."

"There will be no tasting, bear or otherwise," Inara said sweetly. She set down the basket and picked up her crossbow. Within seconds, she had loaded it and sent a dart over Mal's shoulder, hitting the center of a knot in a tree thirty meters behind him.

Mal turned to look at the tree, then back at her. "Very nice."

"Thank you." She had the crossbow reloaded already.

"Course, predators do tend to move a little faster than trees, and I don't see a dart doin' too much more to a bear, other than makin' it mad."

"I can handle large moody mammals growling at me. I've had a lot of experience with that in the past year." She gave Mal a pointed look.

Mal scowled at Jayne's chuckle, and saw Zoë trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

"Inara – " he started.

"Stop worrying, Mal. At the very least I can slow a hungry beast down enough for us to run back to your nán zĭ qì protection."

Kaylee stayed clear of the tiff, picking up the basket Inara had dropped and started toward the woods. Inara set her crossbow on her shoulder and followed while Mal ignored the grins from the rest of the crew.

.*. .*. .*.

"Thank you for playing along with that," Inara told Kaylee as she carefully pulled a plump berry off of a thorny branch.

"Wha'd'ya mean?" Kaylee asked with pink stained lips. More berries were ending in her belly than in the basket.

"About you _planning_ to come along."

"I wouldn't even think of tellin' on ya." Kaylee snuck a look at Inara's serious face. "So why don't you wanna go on a walk with the cap'n?" Kaylee voice was all innocence, but when Inara paused in her berry picking to study the girl, Kaylee couldn't help but smile.

"I know what you're thinking, Kaylee, but there is nothing between Mal and me."

"Course not," Kaylee said, still smiling.

Inara didn't answer, and they picked quietly for a while before Kaylee asked, "Inara, you ain't had a client since that chairman on Oeneus, right?"

"No, I haven't."

"It's been near a month."

"Mm-hmm."

"So… ain't you gettin' a little… antsy?"

"Antsy?"

"You know… when you get used to doin' it all the time and then you don't get to no more?"

Inara looked at Kaylee's blushing face and realized the conversation was no longer about her and Mal. "Are you having a difficult time?" she asked with a gentle smile.

"Wŏ de tiān, á! Swimming with the doc yesterday… but he ain't even interested." Kaylee let out an impatient sigh. "I tell you what, Inara – these days even Jayne's startin' to look good! Did you see him yesterday?"

"Everyone saw him; he made sure of that."

"Yeah. An' if he's lookin' good I know I got problems." Kaylee scratched her nose and left a little raspberry juice on it. "I mean… he does _look_ good, but he's just so… so Jayne! Sides, I couldn't go without the kissin'. Now, Simon…" She stopped with a sad sigh.

"Sounds like you've thought about this." Inara pointed at her own nose; Kaylee got the message and wiped most of the raspberry juice off her face.

"No! Well, yeah, but that's only cause I been all caged up. It ain't natural, livin' like this. And them as could help are just…" Kaylee gave a little harumph of frustration, then looked up at Inara again. "Ain't it tough for you?"

"What I do is for my clients, not for me."

Kaylee's eyes widened in shock. "What? You mean, with your clients, you don't ever…" She raised her eyebrows and nodded suggestively.

"Of course I do." Inara laughed. "I guess I could pretend with quite a few of them, but there are those who would know."

"So you always do?"

"Always."

"Then you _gotta_ be missin' it."

"It's a controlled response," Inara said with an indifferent shrug. "It's enjoyable, but it's not something I need."

Kaylee sat still for a bit and thought about that, then she got up and carefully made her way deeper into the prickly bushes. When she settled down, the majority of the berries she picked were gathered into the folded down top of her coveralls. She was too busy with her thoughts to snack.

"That's a shame, Inara," Kaylee finally said in a soft voice.

Inara responded quickly, as if her thoughts had followed a similar path. "Why? It's my job. A professional chef is trained to analyze the flavors in a dish instead of mindlessly enjoying them, and so he or she experiences food differently than the rest of us. It's the same with a Companion and sex." She'd clearly used this argument before, in her head if not out loud.

Kaylee paused and sat back. "But how bout that one time? You know, when I …"

Inara smiled and relaxed. "That was different. Special circumstances. It was… not really me in a way."

"Maybe it was more _you_ than you think," Kaylee said without looking up.

Inara looked at Kaylee in alarm, "Kaylee, are you saying…"

"No, Inara, don't worry about me. I know what I want, even if he don't. I'm just worried bout you is all."

"You don't need to be. I've chosen my life and I'm happy with it."

Kaylee answered in a small voice. "Maybe you just don't know what you're missin'."

Inara sighed. "Please, Kaylee, enough." She licked her red stained fingers and changed the subject. "So this… thing that you want – how exactly is that going?"

Kaylee shook her head. "I can't seem to get the message across. We have all this fun swimmin', but then he goes off like I'm just some play pal. And not the good kind of playin'."

Inara smiled knowingly. "Smart people are notorious for being stupid. Especially men. Especially doctors."

"Think he's sly or somethin'?"

"I think he's in over his head and he's lost. Be patient, he'll come around."

"Hope so." Kaylee sighed wistfully, "I'm wearin' myself out waitin'."

Kaylee sounded so forlorn that Inara had to laugh. "Be patient, băo bèi. Good things are worth the wait."

"Well then, this is gonna be really, really, _really_ good when it happens…." Kaylee couldn't finish without breaking into a laugh too. She came back over to Inara to pour her gathered berries into the basket.

"So, Inara, why don't you wanna be alone with the cap'n?" Kaylee asked. Inara looked away with a frustrated sigh, but Kaylee continued. "And I ain't talkin' about gettin' all sexed. I thought you two was friendly now, after what happened. After you helped him get better."

"Kaylee, it's… complicated."

"Can't be _that_ complicated."

"Can't it?"

Kaylee nodded in understanding, then smiled sadly. "Yeah, guess it always is."

.*. .*. .*.

Book finished filling the smoker with strips of bear meat and closed the door. Jayne had set up a spit over the fire which currently had several large steaks sizzling. Zoë and Mal had taken the rest of the meat onto the ship for storage in the freezer; it was a good haul for one morning's work.

"I saw you spent some time with River yesterday," Book said to Jayne.

"What?" Jayne looked up with an open mouth. "What'd ya mean?"

"Swimming."

"Oh, yeah." Jayne returned to poking at the fire.

"Did she seem all right?" Book asked.

"Yeah, other than bein' weird. But that ain't nothin' new."

Book stepped up on a rock and looked toward the water, where Simon was still watching over River. "I hope she hasn't taken a step back."

"Back?"

"Yes. She had a bit of an… episode while you were out hunting."

Jayne snickered. "Too bad. It's been all right, her not bein' nutso."

Book looked over in surprise. "How so?"

Jayne shrugged. "I dunno." He scratched his head, then looked at up Book again. "She's been kind'a fun, I guess. Helluva lot more than when she's comin' at me with a knife."

"I can't disagree with that."

"Kind'a like a li'l sis or somethin'."

"Yes. That she is." Book nodded with a fond smile, then stepped down from the rock and sat down. "Do you have any sisters?"

"Just Matty, my little brother."

Book didn't answer. He watched Jayne throw a few more small logs on the fire, spreading the heat to make the meat cook evenly.

"I had one once," Jayne said after a spell.

Book had to backtrack, to remember what they'd been talking about.

"A sister?"

"Yep. She passed since I left home."

"Oh… I'm very sorry."

"No need. Long time ago."

They sat in silence some time before Jayne asked, "So what d'ya think sets her off? Makes her get all nutty?"

Book glanced back out toward the water, but all he could see was Simon, still sitting watch. "Apparently, it was a patch of raspberry bushes."

Jayne snorted and shook his head. "Nutjob."

.*. .*. .*.

The crew finished a lunch of meat grilled over a fire and sat back in the shade of the ship to enjoy their full stomachs. The bear meat was the first real food they'd had since Ricky Lu's seafood ran out, and no one had any complaints.

Although he kept the idea to himself, Mal was thinking that this could become an extended vacation. There was food and fun a'plenty, and no Alliance patrols or troublesome locals to worry over. But experience had taught him the need for pessimism and caution.

During the afternoon, he had Book watch the oxygen chiller, sent Simon to finish with the gathering of greens, and dragged Kaylee and Wash into the ship. It had been quite a while since they'd had her shut down and could run a full check.

It turned out to be a good thing that they did one.

"It's cause of the grapplin' on the servo powerin' the artificial grav drive," Kaylee explained in the engine room, shining a flashlight into an open panel under her hammock. "It's all brittle, just bout worn through. Probably not ever been replaced."

Mal nodded, not overly surprised. If the crew's needs were seen to and no one was currently trying to kill them, the only place for the problem to arise was the ship. Always had to be a gorram problem somewhere.

"Can you fix it?" he asked.

"I'll weld some braces on the grapplin', n' that'll hold up fine. But it's been puttin' strain on the axle, and it don't look good. Tiny little part, Cap'n, but it's real special. Can't fix her without replacin' the whole servo."

"Define 'don't look good'."

"Greasy spots. Nine of em."

Mal raised a brow at her and she explained. "Axle goes, we'll lose internal grav. No big deal if we's settin' still or in orbit; we just float around. But if it goes while she's at full burn, acceleratin' at all, we'll be squished gainst some wall or nother."

"Tāmā de húndàn," Mal swore under his breath.

"That's for sure. Can't be goin' tween worlds with it like this, not if we wanna move fast. Can't be doing any fancy maneuverin' neither. Gotta be real careful."

Mal wasn't about to sit around camping while he knew that his ship wasn't spaceworthy. He delivered the bad news at dinner: they'd have the night to rest up, and in the morning they'd go looking for the part Kaylee needed.

"On the way in, Wash picked up some EM noise," Mal explained. "It's the only sign of tech life on this rock. We'll hunt it down, see if they got anything Kaylee can use."

"And if they don't?" Jayne asked sulkily.

"Ain't your problem to worry over. You just finish curing your bearskin if you wanna take it with, I don't want it stinkin' things up. Wash?"

"Humm?" Wash looked up from where he was cuddling with Zoë.

"If you two really plan on spendin' the night under the stars, you need to rig up some kind of security. It smells like meat out here, and I don't want any of you bein' late night snacks for the wildlife."

"Right, Captain," Wash replied as he tipped his cheek against the side of Zoë's head.

"See to it now, Wash."

Wash sighed and started pulling himself out from under his wife. "You know you worry too much, right?"

"That's my job," Mal said, and looked at Wash like he was daring him to argue.

In the end, everyone except Inara and Mal decided to camp out for the night to take in as much fresh air as possible. Simon didn't seem overjoyed at the prospect, but River was insistent and he wouldn't let her stay outside without him.

They took advantage of the soft floor of pine needles in Book's natural 'cathedral.' Wash set up a small perimeter of electric wire around a shallow dell, meant to be private space for himself and Zoë. Book and Kaylee made a larger area for the rest of the campers.

Mal made sure his crew was set up with fire pits and blankets and checked the smoker before he returned to the ship. He had taken a little razzing from Jayne about being a pansy, like he was afraid to sleep out of doors, but that wasn't why he didn't join them.

It wasn't about needing the comfort of his own bunk, wasn't even about wanting to watch over the ship. He hadn't been sleeping so well in the past few weeks. He doubted that even the cool air of the forest would do the trick, and the last thing he wanted was to lay awake all night listening to Jayne snore. He figured he could enjoy the peace just fine sitting by the cargo bay doors, watching the light of the two local moons on the water.

Before that, he had one order of business to take care of.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara finished rinsing out her suit, still wet from her post-dinner swim, and was just hanging it in the shuttle's head to dry when there was a soft rapping on the shuttle's hatch. It had to be Mal; there was no one else on board, so she was surprised at the knock. But it allowed her a moment to twist her damp hair in a chignon on the back of her head and pull her robe tight around her.

Sure enough, it was the captain. He stood outside the hatch looking at the floor like he was hesitant to bother her.

"To what do I owe the courtesy of the knock?" she asked.

"Wasn't sure if you'd be sleepin'."

"Not yet, though it won't be long. There's nothing more tiring than a good long swim." She motioned for him to come in, then stepped back.

"Suppose not," he said as he followed her.

She walked to the center of the room, but Mal stayed by the hatch, not closing it behind him. "Would you like to sit?" she asked.

"No thanks. Just got a few words to say, won't take long."

"All right." Inara was put on her guard by his formal air. He looked a little… not nervous, but _taut?_

He cleared his throat. "Look, I, uh…" He paused and took a heavy breath.

"Yes?" she prompted. His unsure manner was almost amusing.

He looked away from her smile. "It's about you takin' Kaylee off today."

"Oh?" Inara's amusement faded. Had he _followed_ them? Overheard? She tried to remember exactly what she'd said to Kaylee, but she let the polite smile on her face change, or the light tone of her voice. "What about it?"

"It... it wasn't appropriate."

Appropriate? Good lord, what had she said? "I must not be fully aware of the propriety of berry picking. Could you explain?"

"Inara… I meant what I said about the danger."

"You mean - all the hungry beasts? You were serious about that?"

He had the grace to look a little embarrassed, but he didn't back down. "Bears don't tend to faint dead away on account a' gettin' hit by one little crossbow dart. And we don't know what other kind'a hungry critters are out there."

In truth, Inara felt more than a little relieved, but she needed to be sure. "So… did you follow us then? To stand guard?"

"If I'd a'followed you the whole crew would'a been on my back. You saw to that."

"I didn't think you were serious!"

"I was. We know nothin' bout this place. And it ain't just wildlife. Don't be forgettin' about people. There's no law out here, and just cause a place looks empty don't mean it is."

_This is ridiculous_, Inara thought, her relief turning to annoyance. "But we were hardly fifty meters from the ship! Picking berries!"

"Which would'a made it all the more idiotic if you and Kaylee got dead or hurt doin' it."

"Mal, do you understand the meaning of _overprotective_? If not, you might want to take the time to look it up."

That struck a chord in him, and not a good one. He looked down at the floor for a second, and when he raised his eyes they were so fierce she almost took a step back.

"Inara, you're all kinds of good at arguin' and pointin' out the things I don't know. But, in the future, if I'm doin' anything that concerns the safety of my crew, don't you ever question me."

Inara couldn't look away from him. Though he hadn't changed his stance, there was suddenly a tension in his body that suggested violence. This man had nothing in common with the grinning prankster she'd seen in the water yesterday.

"I'm sorry," she told him softly, still holding his intense stare. "I… I didn't know."

It didn't matter which one was the real Mal; the overbearing tyrant in her shuttle right now was the side he needed for survival, and would always be there. She couldn't let herself forget it.

"It won't happen again," she said, and after a second she added, "Captain."

He watched her closely, as if he was waiting for her to add something sarcastic or flippant. When he realized that she meant what she said, he looked away and the tension left his body. She thought she saw a hint of regret in his face, but when he looked at her again, it was only to give her a short nod before he ducked back out the open hatch.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
dŏng ma: understand?  
tăo yàn: disgusting  
mèi mei: little sister  
nán zĭ qì: manly  
wŏ de tiān, á: dear god in heaven  
băo bèi: treasure  
tā mā de hún dàn: Mother humping son of a bitch

* * *

**Chapter 3.**

Ginger left the rest of her crew; she carefully crept over the crest of the hill and down into the shallow valley, looking for a place to set up. The familiar cold clarity was coming over her already. Lately there hadn't been enough opportunities to snipe, and she'd been getting restless. Not shooting gave her an itch that even Will couldn't scratch; only a job could put her fully at ease.

She loved what she did. She loved how all the stupid complications of life went away and all that was left was the target. She loved the hard satisfaction of making something or someone silently shatter in the center of her crosshairs, and all the effort it took was a bare millimeter's movement of her finger. Like she was the Almighty, striking from a distance with inevitable power.

Ginger could shoot. She'd been good at it the first time she ever had a rifle in her hands, just a nine year old girl on a swampy border world. She'd gotten better since, and the weapon in her hands had gotten a whole lot better too.

A couple hundred meters out from the Firefly's wide open cargo bay, she found an ideal spot. She set her rifle down carefully, almost lovingly, then kneeled behind a rock of just the right height. She folded up her faded green military coat and set down her pack, then took a few seconds to check the ammo in the pistol hanging from her belt.

When she was ready, she rested the rifle barrel on the rock in front of her and squinted through the sights; as she'd expected, the brightness of the afternoon had overwhelmed her vision and she couldn't make out any detail in the dark of ship's cargo hold. She set about fixing the problem by getting a duck billed cap and some heavily shaded goggles out of her pack and putting them on.

She had one thing to do while she waited for her eyes to adjust; she pulled a small comm out of her shirt pocket and activated it. It was time to talk to the boss.

"Aunt Betty, you there?" she said. "It's Ginger."

Of course, the woman wasn't really named Betty. Ginger had a few ideas about who Aunt Betty really was, as did Will, but it wasn't their place to be figuring that out. All they needed to do was carry out the job, exactly as Ray planned it.

Ginger wasn't sure how much Ray guessed about Betty. Most likely, he didn't even care who she really was. The man just wanted the pay-off. The ignorant hick had never even been off this world; he didn't have a clue about how complicated things could be. He didn't know how to cover his ass.

A reply finally came through: _I'll be right with you._ The voice sounded crisp and clear; it belonged to an elderly woman.

Ginger waited, watching Ray, Will, and Hank. They had been creeping down the hillside, and were just reaching the bottom of the valley. They stopped twenty meters from the Firefly, huddling behind a rock to make final plans.

It was near a minute before the Aunt Betty spoke again.

_Ginger, my dear, how are things proceeding? _

"These folks are fools. We'll have their ship in a few. Thought you'd wanna have a look." She tipped her head towards the clear blue sky, focusing on the colorful pattern of the rings that encircled the world's belly.

_How kind of you to think of me. _

The woman's voice was low but pleasant; Ginger never could tell if she was serious when she said things like that. "Locate my signal yet?" she asked.

_The visual is coming up now. _

Ginger stretched out on her back and waved one arm over her head, keeping it low to the ground. No one who wasn't directly above would see the movement.

"You got me?" she asked.

_Yes, thank you. You'll have the ship soon? _

"Shouldn't be a problem."

_Very good. Let me know when you reach the harvestor, so I can time the rendezvous. _

"Will do."

_Good luck, deary. _

Ginger returned the comm to her pocket, snickering at how easy the conversation had gone. Necessary, too. The signal between herself and Aunt Betty could be tracked and logged by interested third parties, if they knew what to look for.

She settled back to wait; she was good at waiting. Had years of experience with that. One of the main lessons of being in the military, at least the branch of it she'd been in: how to pass time.

Not basic training, of course. There hadn't been any spare time there, which she'd liked. The months following basic had been hard to take; she'd expected to be picked for special ops right away, given of the way she could shoot. Instead, it'd been a year and a half, time she'd had to spend as a grunt in the regular service.

It turned out the delay was for security; she was from an Independent world and the Alliance wasn't sure about her loyalties. It took a series of psyche tests and screenings to convince them that Ginger was just a simple young soldier, honest and steadfast about her talent and her purpose. She could shoot. She didn't much care about the rest. If the Alliance was willing to give her a gun worthy of her abilities and a target to hit, she'd hit it. Simple as could be.

After a time, the Alliance brass made peace with that, and the call came.

The following two decades were a good time. Assassinations, covert ops, always an interesting job, always challenging and satisfying, and the few missions that failed no one could blame Ginger for. She never missed.

When the war came, the missions changed. The small group she'd been working with for the past several years expanded, took on tougher jobs that involved getting behind enemy lines on shithole rim worlds. Sometimes weeks of sneaking and role playing were involved in a single kill. She found it tiresome. But then she started working with Will.

Will was quite a guy. Good at planning a job and carrying it through no matter. Good at getting people to go about things his way. Good in bed, keeping life fun for her in the long breaks between jobs. She thought of him as her man, though she knew he had plenty of other women. Didn't bother her none. She had to have a man to scratch the itch, and she was glad to have such a one as Will to do it. Best of all, he didn't let it interfere with business, and neither did she. They kept it simple. Business and sex. None of that family crap, no possessiveness or silly spats about what else they did with their free time. Nice and simple.

She watched her man split off from the other two and circle toward the back of the Firefly. Then Will gave a signal and the three men walked across the last open space, approaching from the side. Best to go at a walk – less suspicious if they happened to be seen.

They reached the ship. Ginger shifted one eye of her goggles up to her forehead and squinted through the sights again, peering into the Firefly's cargo bay. This time she could make something out: there was a man in there, moving things around. A tall guy, dressed like a Browncoat. Must be the one that Will'd talked to yesterday morning, the captain of the ship.

Motion on the hillside to her right caught her eye and she swung her rifle toward it.

.*. .*. .*.

Three days ago 

The crew got up early again, and took a few hours to finish gathering up goods, including several baskets of raspberries and a few large bags of Simon's terrible tasting greens. Mal allowed them a last swim to cool off, then _Serenity_ took to the sky.

The weak EM signals Wash had picked up came from the southern continent of the world, an area covered in a thick blanket of snow. It was mid afternoon local time when _Serenity_ reached the source of the signals: a town situated around a y-shaped river junction. The half-frozen main river wound lazily through a tree-filled valley, and the tributary came down from the west, just finishing its descent through the foothills of a north-south trending mountain range.

The portion of the town on the west side of the main river had a sparse scattering of wooden houses tucked between the heavily forrested hills. The larger section of town was on the flatter east side, and it was full of people out walking the streets.

Wash set them down in an open field near a road leading in from the east. "Radio signals," he told Mal. "Nothing strong. I'd guess there are a few people playing with old comms."

Mal and Wash were on the bridge with Zoë and Kaylee, looking out the windows at the thin traffic on the road in front of them. People in colorful homemade clothing pushed homemade carts through the slush. The buildings looked homemade as well, and there was no sign of lightposts or power cables.

"Don't look like they got much in the way of electronics here, Kaylee," Mal said.

"If they're powerin' comms, they could have other stuff," she replied hopefully. "Won't hurt to look."

"Sure hope it won't," Mal mumbled, then he raised his voice. "Zoë, you stay here. Looks like we've drawn a bit of a crowd. Be friendly, but make sure no one comes near the ship. Jayne, you're with me and Kaylee."

The locals were friendly and happy to greet foreigners. Book and Wash were out in front of the ship already, busily making new friends. Zoë stayed back a bit, settling on the ramp to play watchdog. Inara, wrapped up in a dark blue hooded cloak, kept Zoë company.

Mal, Jayne, and Kaylee made their way through the small crowd, saying a few polite hellos, then they gained the road and followed it into town.

The place had character and charm enough to make up for the lack of modern comforts. The buildings were made of dark wooden beams edging walls of white plaster, and icicles hung from empty flower boxes beneath nearly every window. Snow-covered evergreens and maples filled the squares, but the streets were clean of snow down to large paving stones that had been carefully placed to allow carts to roll smooth. The people here cared for their town, and it showed.

Word of the visitors spread, and the residents gaped at the three strangers with avid curiosity, commenting unabashedly in a deep guttural language mixed with a scattering of English and Chinese.

The center of town was the area nearest the river junction, where a large open square led to a bridge spanning the main river. Buildings of stone lined the square; most were set up on blocks to keep them above the inevitable spring floods; hinged wooden staircases led up into the shops and eateries.

The rich, warm smell of roasted meat wafted out of one of the largest buildings. It was set on the river side of the square; a sign above the door displayed a mug with a foamy head sitting behind a joint of meat. Jayne peered in the door with an open mouth, and when three laughing young women in fur-lined coats climbed the stairs to go in, Jayne turned to Mal with a pleading expression.

It looked to be the biggest establishment in town and a suitable place to gather the news, so Mal nodded. "Okay," he said. "But – Jayne?"

"What?"

"Behave yourself. I need to do some talkin' and get the lay of the land. If things go smooth then you can have your night of drunken sin. But later – not now, dŏng ma? I need you to stay with Kaylee, look after her."

"But if I stay by Kaylee the gals'll think I got a woman already – "

"S'alright Jayne," Kaylee said as she took his arm. "A taken man just makes a challenge to some womenfolk. You can come back later lookin' for a mistress." She grinned in hopeful anticipation. "And maybe I'll find myself a mister."

Jayne grinned back. "What the guĭ, could be fun." They went arm and arm up the stairs behind Mal.

A half hour later, Mal yanked a half-full pint glass out of Kaylee's hand. He set it on the wooden table heavily enough to splash a little ale toward the pair of strapping young bucks chatting with her. They responded to his interference with some ire, but when he pulled his coat back to show his gun, they made no more fuss.

"Where's Jayne?" Mal asked Kaylee, but she was busy saying goodbye to her boys, her voice slightly slurred. Mal looked around, and spotted the mercenary across the room with the three young ladies they'd seen come in the door.

Mal didn't spare much time for manners as he dragged his two crew members into the chill air outside, but he did at least try to keep his calm. "If you two are done makin' friends," he said, "how bout we get some work done. I got directions to a fellow who plays with machines. Bartender says he could have somethin' for us."

"Tha's fantastic, Cap!" Kaylee said, grinning as she hung onto Jayne's arm.

Mal looked at her closely. "How much did you drink?"

"Not even two!" she said.

"Gorram lightweight," Jayne said, though he seemed a mite unsteady himself. "No worry, Mal. I got a hold on her."

"Noooo, ya don't!" Kaylee said as she spun away from Jayne. He easily caught her by the waist and swung her over his shoulder.

"You drunk too, Jayne?" Mal asked.

"Nahhhh. Only had three pints. M'just in a good mood." He grinned wider and slapped Kaylee's rear end. This got nothing more than a half-hearted yelp in reply.

Mal studied Jayne's bright face with annoyance. "Uh-huh. Some crew I got. Put her down, Jayne, walkin'll help. Kaylee, get your brain back on. We got shoppin' to do."

Kaylee wavered after Jayne set her down, then focused on Mal with a lazy smile. "Brain's always on, Cap. It's called nashural talent."

Mal turned away with a huff and lead the tipsy pair toward the wide stone bridge, and they crossed over to the hillier side of town.

"Guess what I heard, Mal," Jayne said eagerly.

"A gunhand who gets drunk on the job forfeits his cut?"

Jayne paused in confusion. "Huh? No, that ain't it – listen: they ain't got no bears this side of the world – folks round here'll pay lots for that skin." Jayne threw his shoulders back proudly. "I got myself purchasin' power."

"Buddha help us," Mal said under his breath.

"Just wish I'd a' saved the balls, bet there's big money for them."

Mal threw a disgusted glance at Jayne. Kaylee was skipping over the cobblestones, avoiding the cracks, and didn't hear.

As they reached the center the bridge, Jayne looked back to study the shops in the main square. "Ya think they got a cat house in town?" he asked.

Kaylee heard that. "O-ooh!" she cooed. "Just what _Serenity_ needs – a kitten! Gotta get two, Jayne, so the one don't get lonely."

Jayne only heard what he wanted. "Two instead a'one?" His eyes lit up.

"He ain't talkin' about felines, Kaylee," Mal said.

"A black one and a' orange one," she continued. "I'll hafta rig a way into my bunk so as they can climb down n' nap with me."

Jayne's were glazed over. "Two, huh! Ain't done that in a while…"

Mal gave up and let them both rattle on as they saw fit.

The house was a ten minute walk up a broad snow-covered lane that wound through the trees. Mal was keeping a lookout for the landmark the bartender had told him about: a large bunch of rocks with a number painted on it. But, even in her state, Kaylee managed to recognize their destination first. A large green tarp was tied between the trees in front of a dark brown wooden house; under the tarp was an impressive collection of machines and parts. Kaylee plunged through the snow to get to the pile, then wound through the junk like it was a candy store.

"Don't hurt yourself!" Mal called, eyeing the many rusty edges and sharp pieces of metal sticking up out of the heap.

"But Cap – looky here…" Kaylee started, but then she froze, staring toward the far side of the pile. "O-ooooh…" she made another sound like the one she'd made over the idea of kittens, but this coo was longer and more heartfelt. She backed off the pile and jogged around to the back of it.

Mal noticed a bearded man coming out of the front door of the house, watching Kaylee with obvious amusement.

"Something I can help you folk with?" the man asked.

"As a matter of fact, there is," Mal replied, walking toward the house with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand. "Name's Malcolm Reynolds."

"Hans Grün." The reply came with a friendly nod and handshake.

"If you'll give me just one second," Mal said pleasantly, holding up a finger, then he went to Kaylee and pulled her away from the large machine she was fondling. It was a beastly metallic frame with four seats mounted under a steel canopy roof. Mal thought it didn't look to be in bad shape, other than not having any wheels.

"Kaylee. Grav drive, remember?"

"But Cap…." She pointed back toward the transport. "Xiù lì!"

"Greasy spots, Kaylee. We'll all be greasy spots."

Kaylee whined one more time, but obediently let Mal lead her to Hans.

"I gotta apologize," Mal said, "Kaylee here's not normally so…" He paused at the sound off to his side, then sighed when he recognized it. Slowly they all looked over to see Jayne, back to them, stance visibly unsteady as he whizzed on a tree.

Kaylee broke down in giggles while Mal tried to think of something to say to Hans. Nothing came out but, "Uhhh…"

"I will guess you stopped at the Pint and Joint?" Hans asked, scratching his chin.

"That we did."

"Scotch ale?"

Kaylee leaned against Mal as she replied happily, "Mmmm, scotch ale."

"Yes, mädchen, sehr gut ale, but one pint equals three pints of other ale for making drunk, ja?"

"Nice goin', Jayne," Mal said with a sidelong glare at the mercenary.

Jayne was still busy yellowing the snow, but he looked over his shoulder. "What'd I do?"

"Maybe you come in for tea before we make business?" Hans offered.

"Much obliged," Mal said. He glanced at Jayne. "I'm guessin' he'll just join us when he's done, if, uh, he ever is."

Mal had a fruitful conversation with Hans while he waited for his mechanic to sober up. It took a few sips of tea, one sudden and hurried trip to the outhouse with a hand over her mouth, then a good deal more tea and some hearty bread and cheese before she more or less came around. She went out to the front yard and picked through the pile, only throwing a few covetous glances at the big machine behind it. When she came back in, Mal was looking somewhat hopeful. Jayne, on the other hand, was sitting in a corner holding his head.

"Sorry, Cap'n," Kaylee said sheepishly. "Didn't see nothin' that'd help." She didn't ask about the thing she _really_ wanted, and Mal didn't have the heart to tell her that he'd already asked the price. It was more than he could pay.

Out of appreciation for the man's news, as well as his patience and help with the sobering up process, Mal left a few coins with Hans and they went on their way.

It was late afternoon and already getting dark when Mal, Jayne, and Kaylee returned to _Serenity_. Mal sent Kaylee to her bunk to nap off her headache, then turned to Jayne. The mercenary was intent on bundling up his bear fur, which had been hanging on display in the cargo bay. But Jayne couldn't move fast enough to escape a scolding.

"You can't be doin' crap like that, not out here," Mal told him. "We don't know these worlds or these people."

Jayne didn't reply, and he kept his back turned, so Mal continued.

"When I tell you to do somethin', I need to know you can do it, specially when it's watchin' over Kaylee."

Jayne grumbled something under his breath, which didn't please Mal at all.

"Gorramit, Jayne, you look at me if you got somethin' to say." Mal grabbed Jayne's arm to pull him up and look him in the eye.

"Kaylee's just fine," Jayne said defensively. "I _was_ watchin' her."

Mal grabbed the front of Jayne's shirt. "Only thing you were watchin' was the local tail." Jayne exhaled with a humph and tried to pull free, but Mal's grip on his shirt tightened. "You need to stop thinkin' with your John Thomas. Kaylee trusts people. What if those fellas you left her with had smooth-talked her out the door? Would she be just fine then?"

"She was just talkin', Mal. She ain't stupid."

Mal held on for a few more seconds before he realized that he'd gone too far. He pushed Jayne back and turned away, clenching his hands in an attempt to control his anger.

Jayne threw his bundled fur over his shoulder. "You done?" he asked.

Mal didn't answer, and Jayne started toward the ramp. "I got business to take care of," he mumbled.

Mal looked after him. "If you end up in a drunk tank tonight, you'll be stayin' there for good. We're leavin' as soon as we get loaded up."

"We got cargo?" Jayne turned to ask, but Mal was stalking away.

Mal knew where his anger had come from, and he had to stop on the stairs behind the infirmary to swallow it down. Near a month it'd been since they'd left Oeneus; most of that time he'd been all right, even feeling pretty good. He'd managed to stay out of trouble and avoid the Alliance. What's more, his crew was still with him, though there wasn't much good to be seen on the road ahead. That was a blessing which, truthfully, he wasn't sure he deserved. But he had to admit it was a comfort.

What had happened in the village had blindsided him. Kaylee talking with a few flirty locals was completely innocuous, and he knew it. But no happy pill in the verse would make him forget the things he'd seen while getting the brain fry on Oeneus. The memory of Kaylee in the arms of a violent thug, and then under the knife of Alliance torturers, was burned into him. He could tell himself again and again that it hadn't been real, but that didn't quench the fear that it could happen. Any time he let his guard down, it could happen.

Mal pressed his hands to the bulkhead, remembering how physical contact with his ship had helped steady him when he hadn't been able to trust his other senses. He could always trust his ship. If she ever hurt him, it was because he had let her down first. Like when he hadn't fixed that compression coil. And now it was the grav drive.

He dropped his hands and continued up the stairs. There'd be time to worry over Kaylee and Jayne – and Inara – later; he had to fix his ship now. And that meant money, and that meant a job. Thankfully, good fortune hadn't completely abandoned him yet.

He found Zoë in the dining room with Wash, Inara, and Book.

"We got us a job," Mal announced.

"Here?" Zoë asked, perplexed.

"Apparently there's a world close by that's hurtin' bad for basic foodstuffs, which they got plenty of right here. There just ain't many transport ships out this way."

"If it's fish I'm getting off now," Wash said.

"You and me both," Mal replied. "It ain't fish, just grains and such." Mal glanced at Book and Inara. "Any of y'all ever been to Niflheim?"

"Gesundheit," Wash said proudly.

Zoë patted her husband's hand with a condescending smile. "Very funny, sweetie," she whispered.

Inara shook her head at Mal. "I've heard of it, but it's so far from the Core that no one from the Guild has even screened clients there."

"Book?" Mal asked.

"As it happens, I did spend some time on Niflheim once," Book said.

"Uh-huh." Mal wasn't surprised, Book often proved a fount of knowledge. Mal folded his arms and sat back. "And?"

"It was about six years back, just after the war. The terraforming process had begun to fail, and we helped our brethren move to a different world."

"The terraforming failed?" Wash asked. "I thought that didn't happen anymore."

"It didn't completely fail," Book said. "The world is still habitable, but nothing much grows on it."

"People still livin' there?" Mal asked.

"There are several wealthy Cartels that won't be leaving anytime soon." This drew questioning looks all around. "It's the planetary rings," he explained. "They're full of certain valuable minerals, floating around in small easy-to-get-to chunks. There are several mining Cartels making their fortune there. And as long as there are rich folk …"

"… there'll be poor folk to do the dirty work," Mal finished, "no matter how hard it is to keep em fed. That jives with what Hans was tellin' me."

"Hans?" Zoë asked.

"Fella I met in town. Used to do trade with Niflheim up till a few years back, when the ships stopped comin'. He said that if we load up on foodstuffs here we'll be able to unload em over there for a big take."

"You mean to profit off of starving people?" Inara asked.

"I mean to do the only job I got in front of me," Mal said without looking at her.

"But… I'm sure there's some way to go about it without taking advantage of these people."

Mal was in no mood to argue morality. He looked up at her. "We'll sell our goods at the going rate," he replied tersely. "You should know all about that."

Inara blinked like she'd just been slapped, and Mal looked away quickly.

"They got Alliance?" he asked Book.

The Shepherd glanced between Mal and Inara before he replied. "Not when I was there; it's too far from the Core for permanent occupation. The Alliance pays the Cartels to deliver the raw materials needed to build and maintain their empire. The government gets a good price, but doesn't need to worry over local security or domestic issues. It's a good arrangement for them."

"Sounds like a good deal for us, too," Mal said. "If they got mining operations, they got machinery, and that means tech shops. If we can just get there without blowin' the grav drive, we ought'a be able to get _Serenity_ fixed up, then sell the goods and be on our way."

"Hmm, and wring those starving people dry," Inara said with a plastic smile. "Have fun with that." She stood up to leave.

"Always do," Mal called after her. "Got a special talent for sellin' to the poor."

Inara didn't reply, didn't even turn back to him as she swept out of the room.

Zoë fixed a steady stare on Mal. "What a wonderful mood you're in, sir."

Mal glanced at her but ignored the comment. "Hans told me where we can pick up some cargo. Let's go."

Buying grain direct from farmers with plenty to sell was an easy transaction, and Mal and Zoë spent damn near every cent they had left. The goods were set to be delivered that night.

On the way back, they ran into Jayne. He had his back braced against the back end of a cart, his feet slipping on the slick paving stones as he tried to help two miserable donkeys move a load that was far too heavy for them. Kaylee's giant piece of machinery was balanced on the cart, and Hans walked alongside looking extremely cheerful.

"Cap'n, Zoë, good," Jayne called out as he took a break to catch his breath. "I could use some help. Gorram thing's heavy!"

"Did I _tell_ you to buy that?" Mal asked.

"Well, no," Jayne replied, on the defensive. "But ya asked the price of it. I figured you must've been interested."

"Actually, Kaylee was the interested party," Mal said, and saw how Jayne looked away like he was embarrassed. It occurred to Mal, a little late, that Jayne had likely used up all of his precious purchasing power on something useful to the whole crew, and something that Kaylee wanted. The realization finally served to douse his bad mood. He stepped up to the machine and gave it a long look over.

"Jayne, if Kaylee can get it runnin', it'll sure be a good thing to have."

Jayne nodded, his shoulders relaxing, but his voice was still petulant. "You gonna give me some help then?"

Mal nodded. "Yeah, we'll get it home."

The three of them shouldered up to the cart and got it rolling along the slippery cobblestones. It took some doing, but they finally maneuvered the monstrosity onto the ship and settled it in a back corner of the cargo bay. Hans took his tired donkeys and departed with many happy words regarding his new bear rug.

Mal was just closing the door to keep the cold out when Kaylee's shriek sounded from above. She chattered ecstatically as she clattered down the stairs.

"Oh my… wow! All she needs is a little wirin' work... gotta check the shaft, kind'a old, may need to rebuild… got some parts somewhere… clean up the anti-grav thrusters, they's a little rusted. Oh Cap!... A new fuel line. Maybe I can piece one together… put some harnesses on, baby's gonna corner tight… gonna be jiàn měi chē, kuài too! …gotta get some paint, gotta be yellow… bright shiny yellow… happy Buddha!… fix the hitchin' hook, put on some wind screens… roof's gotta go, no need for a roof…"

Wash soon joined Kaylee in her animated admiration of their new toy. Mal let them go on for a bit before he interrupted. "Okay, Christmas is over. Kaylee. Hey - Kaylee!"

"Wha'?" She looked up from where she was sprawled on the deck at the front end of the hovercraft, hands already worked deep into its complicated innards.

"You take care of _Serenity_'s grav drive before you even look at this again, dŏng ma? Greasy spots don't go for rides in even the shiniest of hovercrafts."

"Oh, Cap!" Kaylee jumped up and, before he could stop her, she hugged him tight.

"That is nice of you, Kaylee, but I didn't buy it. That's Santa over there." Mal nodded to Jayne, who was lifting two large ceramic growlers out of the back of the hovercraft. He saw Mal pointing at him and lifted his lip in a confused sneer.

Kaylee gaped for a second, then she ran to the mercenary to say thank you as only Kaylee could.

Jayne stood still, his arms weighted by the bottles he was holding and his head pulled back uncomfortably, and Kaylee hung from his neck with her feet kicked up behind her.

"Well, hell," Jayne said uncomfortably. "If I go out whorin' Mal'll leave me here."

"Don't you deny it, Jayne. You did somethin' nice!" Kaylee told him, and she kissed him on the cheek before she dropped back to the deck.

"I had enough left over to get these." Jayne held up the two growlers like they were evidence of his true nature.

"Scotch ale?" Mal asked in a worried tone.

"Uh-huh. And I ain't sharin' a drop of it."

"You don't fool me, Jayne Cobb," Kaylee said, still looking at him with a proud smile. "You're gettin' to be a real gentleman."

"No, I ain't," Jayne said in disgust, and turned away to take his beer to his bunk. He muttered on his way out. "Gorram, already wish I hadn't bought the thing."

"All right, the rest a'you folks!" Mal broke off the debate over Jayne's character. "Let's clear some space in here. We got goods comin' in a few, then we're movin' on."

.*. .*. .*.

Simon sat with an unusual slouch; he was tired. It had been a chore to keep River in check that day. She'd been so calm the past month that her sudden mood swings had caught him by surprise. When she'd finally settled down on the catwalk over the cargo bay doors, laying on her stomach and watching the crew come and go below her, he'd stayed beside her, thankful for the rest.

She didn't stir during all the hubbub of the hovercraft's arrival, so Simon didn't either. He smiled fondly as he watched Kaylee patter down the stairs on the far side of the bay, babbling about the hovercraft. His smile broadened when she give her thanks to the captain, who'd also been increasingly moody lately and could use the kindness.

But when she flung herself onto Jayne, Simon felt a rush of irritation that he didn't understand.

"It's inevitable," River said softly. She was watching, too.

"What's that?" Simon asked, still distracted by his own thoughts.

"Have to make a move, or the chance goes away."

Simon glanced down at Kaylee again. "Chance?"

"Chance to be happy." She rolled onto her back to look at him; her eyes were sad. "People like being here because they know what they want. Don't need to go looking." She closed her eyes. "Feels good."

Simon used to do what he could to distract her when she was in this mood, but lately he had been taking a different approach. The events on Oeneus had shown him that her ramblings contained more insight than he had previously imagined, so he'd been trying to find the meaning behind the things she said. Even when he couldn't understand her, it seemed to make her feel better that he tried.

Today, she was going in several directions at once, and he had a hard time keeping up.

"People don't go looking?" he asked. "Which people?"

"Ones who live here."

"You mean the crew?"

"No," she sounded impatient now. "The ones outside. Know what they want. Don't need to go flying everywhere. Have a place and all they need."

"Like the raspberry bushes," Simon said softly.

"Know who they are. Wish I knew, so I could be happy too."

"You'll be happy. I'll make you happy again, I promise."

She shook her head. "Not till I know." She sat up and looked down into the bay, where Mal, Zoë, and Wash were piling a few empty canisters to the side and Kaylee was still inspecting the hovercraft. River watched Kaylee for a few seconds before she turned to Simon. "Need to know what you want, or you'll never have it," she told him. "It'll go somewhere else and you'll drift. Forever. Alone."

He thought about what she was saying, then he nodded. "I think I understand, mèi mei." He smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead before he pulled her to him for a hug.

.*. .*. .*.

Later that night, Kaylee sighed impatiently and shifted inside a folded up mattress. Mal had helped her wedge it into the engine room, building a cushioned nest right next to the open panel under her hammock. Her eyes were on the small system that was causing them such trouble, but her mind was down in the cargo bay, imagining repairs to the battered hovercraft. It was now surrounded so tightly by bins of dried grain that if Mal ever allowed her to work on it, she'd barely have room to maneuver.

Mal's voice came through the comm. "All set, Kaylee?"

"A-OK, Cap'n," she replied, and her attention focused on the grav subsystem that began to spin as Wash powered up the ship.

She'd do what she could to make sure the weakened axle kept spinning. If it broke, it wouldn't affect the ship's maneuverability, but the artificial grav that kept everyone and everything inside the ship sticking to the floor would go out. Not a big deal if the engines weren't firing. Actually, she thought with a wistful sigh, zero G could present opportunities for a certain kind of fun, if only the doctor would kindly take part. A dreamy smile spread across Kaylee's face as her mind wandered.

She felt a slight bump in the ship's motion when _Serenity_ distanced herself from the planet enough for the artificial grav to kick in. Kaylee wrenched her mind back to the open panel in front of her. It was no time for daydreams, no matter how lovely they might be.

.*. .*. .*.

Wash and Mal were buckled tight to the seats on the bridge. It wasn't as safe as being rolled up in a mattress, like the rest of the crew was, but someone had to do the flying. There had been some argument about whether two people were needed, but in the end Mal had pulled rank and insisted on staying on the bridge, where he was annoying the hell out of Wash.

"Easy, easy," Mal said, holding a placating hand out toward the pilot.

"I am easy!" Wash countered. "Easy as Jayne on scotch ale. Would you relax?"

"We can't be going past ten Gs now," Mal reminded the pilot. "Just in case – "

"Really? Ten Gs? I thought it was ten Gs, like you told me five seconds ago. Or ten Gs like you said fifteen seconds ago. Or…"

"Pay attention!" Mal said. "You gotta keep her lined up – "

"Captain. Sir. If the grav fails while you're speaking, you could tragically bite your tongue off."

Mal opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut and glared at Wash instead. He settled on watching the ship's course on the co-pilot's console and tapping his foot impatiently if it strayed at all.

The ship cleared atmo and Wash plotted the course to Niflheim, carefully setting the acceleration curve to stay within non-grease spot forming limits. When he finished he switched on the comm. "Fair passengers and crew," he said in a gentle voice, "it will be safe to get up and move about the ship in approximately… four hours. In the meantime, please enjoy your journey with slower than hell enterprises."

Wash switched off the comm and settled back in his seat. There was nothing to do now but watch the controls and wait until the engine finished firing.

"Mal, it really would be safer if you went to your bunk," Wash said.

"We've been over this, Wash. She's my boat, I'm stayin' here to keep an eye on her."

Wash shrugged. "Sure." He made himself more comfortable in his seat, then glanced at Mal. "Guess this gives us a chance to chat," he suggested.

"Yeah. We should… catch up," Mal replied with a nod.

"Absolutely."

Mal cleared his throat, then shifted in his chair.

Wash idly flipped a switch that appeared to do absolutely nothing.

Mal adjusted the harness holding him to his seat.

Wash picked up a blue plastic dinosaur.

Mal noticed. He nodded at the toy in Wash's hand. "So that one there is a… um…"

"Stegosaurus," Wash filled in.

"Right."

"Usually," Wash explained, "a stegosaurus only eats plants, but this one here is different. This is Seeber. Seeber switched brains with Queen T. Rex," Wash held up a second dinosaur, a vicious-looking orange beast. "That was when the herbivores were experimenting with hallucinogens during a freak lightning storm. So, then Seeber started chewing on the triceratops." Wash's snort clearly said _can-you-believe-that-crap?_ "And of course the herbies had to lock him up. And Seeber's brain in the Queen's body didn't work out so well either, because… the… uh…

"Captain? Where are you going?"

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
dŏng ma: understand?  
guĭ: hell  
xiù lì: pretty  
jiàn měi chē: beautiful, strong vehicle  
kuài: fast; quick; swift  
mèi mei: little sister


	2. Part 2 of 9

**Easy Tickets: Part 2/9 (Chapters 4-6)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

* * *

**Chapter 4.**

Hank wiped at the sweat under his beard as he followed Ray and Will over the stony ridge, careful to stay behind rocks and the remains of dead trees as they descended toward the Firefly on the floor of the valley. Hank was at the back of the pack, but he didn't mind. Nor did he care that he wasn't privy to the details of the job. He knew they'd be taking the ship and getting away from this dried up rock for good, heading back to the Core. That was enough. For now.

Hank was not the man he'd been when he arrived on Niflheim ten years ago, shipped out by a construction cartel as part of the security staff. He'd had a spiffy uniform back then, also a fairly decent gun, a healthy paycheck, and every expectation of a peaceful, mundane life. Something involving a good woman and a home in the fertile green countryside around the town of Alsvidh. Eventually, he'd thought then, he'd give up the job and raise cattle, maybe grow some crops. His own tobacco for one – he always did love to chew.

Hank spat in the dust. Things hadn't quite worked out. Life had been easy for about a month, then he'd showed up at work one day to find locked gates in front of an empty, silent compound. It was a few weeks before he found out that the top members of his cartel had packed it up and left; it was a few years before he knew why.

His employer wasn't the only one to go under. The number of folk needing work grew steadily, but jobs were scarce. Hank still had his uniform and gun, and his clean wholesome look and steadfast habits helped him find and keep work early on.

The next few years had poor harvests, and refugees from the countryside trickled into the city. Those who could afford passage to the Core disappeared. Their abandoned homes filled with families of ex-farmers who competed for low-paying jobs, and the food shipped in from offworld was increasingly expensive.

The autumn of Hank's third year on the planet, the truth reached finally reached the streets: the terraforming process had failed. This was no temporary blight; it was the ongoing death of the entire world. The scientists from the cartels had figured it out years ago, and those with the means had already gotten away clean.

Even before the news spread to the masses, any ship headed for the Core was loaded with minerals mined from the planetary rings, and the few passenger berths not reserved for cartel VIPs were incredibly expensive. It had always been difficult for a common person to find transport; after word of the dying environment got out, it was impossible.

Hank was stuck. He was broke, jobless, and essentially friendless on a dying world. The work got shadier, the pay less. Between jobs, he begun to reward himself with as many hours of oblivion as he could afford. There was nothing else to do.

The few remaining cartels were still pulling in a fortune from mining the planetary rings. Cartel members moved up to orbital platforms, living fat, surrounded by every luxury that could be brought from the Core. From time to time, a few of them would come planetside, looking for adventure in the untamed wilds or the lawless streets of crumbling towns like Alsvidh.

It was just such a fancified rich húndàn who cornered Hank in an alley one night, looking to show off his high-tech handgun to his two admiring friends. By then alcohol was scarce, but there was a steady supply of locally made drugs to fry one's brain for a small price. That night, Hank had been so high on drops that he could hardly stand. Through a haze, he'd looked into the faces of those three men and seen that he was not human to them; he was entertainment. At that instant Hank understood with brutal clarity the futility and failure of his life. He was going to die here, a pathetic used-up junkie whose death wouldn't even stir the interest of the apathetic security forces. His body would most like dry up and wither where it fell.

That was the moment it all changed. Hank looked the man with the high-tech gun in the eye, drew like he'd been born to do it, and shot him square in the throat. The other two men froze in shock, unable to process the fact that even wealthy young billionaires were mortal, and Hank gunned them down where they stood. After that, he pried the fancy pistol out of the dead man's hand, then staggered into the first deserted building he found and passed out in a dark back room.

Some might have called it dumb luck, but Hank knew different. He should have been shot dead by a sober man holding a gun like that. He should have been found by the security sweeps during the long hours he was passed out, a murder weapon in one hand and a very expensive stolen gun in the other. But neither of those things happened, and Hank knew there was a reason.

He was meant for something else. He was meant to get off this world and achieve some important goal; he believed it with every fiber of his soul.

The proof of this piled up. After that night in the alley, folks saw the prize gun on his hip and the rumors started. People figured that he'd been the one to shoot the rich guy, and they wanted to shake his hand.

Other folks wanted something else from him. He learned to be ready for some hot-shot kid, long-toothed geezer, or anything in between looking to test their draw against him. But Hank beat them, every one. No one could touch him. He quit drinking, quit the drops, and generally kept himself fit and steady. He took to being spiritual, and spent time outside the city, fasting and listening to the death throes of nature. It strengthened him. This hard place was a whetstone, honing him so he'd be ready for what the future surely did hold.

The jobs came, and the jobs always paid. Hank became a legend, and that's how he got in with Ray's gang. They picked him to help with this job, a job that would get him off Niflheim at last. He'd be going back to the Core, ready to find the higher purpose that awaited him.

Hank looked at the two men walking ahead of him, winding down the valley side toward the Firefly. Will was a fool, overly sure of himself just because he could smile pretty and talk flowery. Hank saw through that. The man was just an overgrown bully. All Will wanted was to get his way, as if winning the little battles meant anything in the long run.

Ray, on the other hand, was a man Hank could almost respect. Ray was a hard ass full of hatred and violence, but it was a violence born of surviving in the same hard times that Hank had known. Problem was, Ray had no higher cause, no reason for being beyond continued existence. Ray saddened Hank.

They couldn't know it, but these two men were tools provided to move him along his path. He'd be surprised if they lasted long, and he wouldn't mind at all if they didn't.

Hank quickly lowered his eyes when Will turned back to halt the group. They were getting close to the Firefly and needed to split up for the final approach. Hank was ready. He'd stand quietly to the side and let Ray talk, cess the situation inside the ship. When things got hot it'd be Hank's time. The gun he'd earned in that dark alleyway years ago would do its work.

That was Hank's way. Do his job, follow his path, and wait for his real purpose to become clear.

.*. .*. .*.

Two days ago 

The trip should have taken no more than a few hours, but with the acceleration limit and the need to conserve fuel, it would be more than a day before they reached Niflheim. Knowing this made the short trip seem incredibly long and tedious.

When _Serenity_ finished her slow acceleration, Wash announced the all clear and headed straight to his bunk, ready to grovel if necessary to get Zoë to help him unwind.

Mal climbed out of his bunk a while later, and was the first to arrive in the dining room. He sat at the head of the table, waiting for the crew to gather for the morning meal. So far so good – if the grav drive crashed now, all they'd have is a little fun moving around with no gravity. Anything that could be strapped down was, so no one was likely to get hurt. Not from free-floating objects, anyway.

A while later, Jayne and Kaylee came in from opposite directions, Jayne from his cabin and Kaylee from the engine room. Book followed soon after. Jayne ignored everyone and went into the cooler where the grilled bear meat was stored.

"Bear for breakfast," Mal said. "I guess, given the options…" He got to his feet to help. "You wanna bring the whole platter out, Jayne?"

"You don't pay me to fix meals," Jayne replied sullenly. He threw enough for himself onto a big plate and headed back to his bunk.

"Not feeling social?" Book asked.

"The drink is better in my bunk, and I ain't sharin' it," Jayne said over his shoulder.

"Guess he's feelin' the need to make up for doin' something decent," Mal said to Book and Kaylee as he went to the cooler for the platter.

"You think so?" Kaylee said. "But it was _so_ nice!"

"What was?" Simon asked as he came in.

"Jayne gettin' that hovercraft."

"Oh. Yes." Simon didn't sound convinced.

Mal set a plate of meat out on the table. "Where's River?" he asked Simon.

"She's… sleeping." Simon's answer was hesitant and Mal studied him.

"She actin' up again?" Mal asked.

"No, just tired."

Mal continued watching Simon as the doctor filled a plate and left the room. Boy wasn't being forthright, but now wasn't the time to force the issue.

Book brought a big bowl of greens to the table, and Kaylee set out a few plates. Mal and Book sat down and started in, but Kaylee stayed standing as she put a few tidbits in a plate for herself.

"You ain't stayin', Kaylee?" Mal asked.

"Got lots to do," she said happily. "I can work on it now, right?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Mal replied. "But keep it neat in there, we could lose vertical any time."

"I know, silly Captain – I am the mechanic here!" she replied with a grin on her way out. Nothing could bring Kaylee down right now, not with a whole hovercraft to work on.

Mal sat silently with Book for a few minutes, then Zoë came in. She wasn't much for conversation, either. In fact, she seemed in quite a hurry to pile a plate with enough food for her and Wash and get back to their bunk.

Inara came in as Zoë left. Mal didn't expect her to stay, which would have been fine with him, but she did. She sat at the far end of the table, but ignored his attempts to ignore her.

"Mal, any word about the Alliance?" she asked in a pleasant, conversational tone.

"Like a greetin' card?"

"No, I mean, are they pursuing you actively?"

"Dunno."

"Do you think they're really interested in finding you?"

"Maybe."

"As in… are they putting up bulletins and scouts _everywhere_?"

"Wouldn't be surprised."

"Because, it could be they're only checking arrest lists and checkpoints."

"Could be."

"Niflheim is so remote. No checkpoints, no Alliance police."

"S'what I hear."

"So… do you know how long we'll be staying there?"

Book's head was swinging back and forth as he watched the exchange. Mal noticed and set his chopsticks down with an impatient sigh.

"Inara, we may touch down for five seconds and have to tear out with all the bounty hunters and Alliance gunships and Reaver scouts in the verse on our tail. Or, could be that one of the Cartels is run by Jayne's long-lost uncle who'll take us in as his very own and we'll spend the rest of our lives luxuriatin' and eatin' bon-bons. Any other questions or will you just tell me what you're after?"

Book looked to Inara, not even trying to feign lack of interest.

Inara dropped her easy manner. "Fine. Actually, I'd like to look for a client."

Mal looked at her for a few seconds, then took up his chopsticks and picked at his food. "Since when d'you need to ask me before you do that?"

"Since the Alliance has been looking for you, and they know that I rent a shuttle on your ship."

That caught him by surprise, and he looked up at her again. "That's why you ain't been takin' clients?"

"That… and the fact that there haven't been many decent opportunities."

He only held her stare a bit longer before he returned to his meal. "So why you wanna look now?"

"The cartel branches on Niflheim are known for their autonomy."

"And that's attractive why?"

"It's not _attractive_. I just mean that they operate largely outside of the Alliance's control."

"They don't chat with the Feds?"

"Only within beaurocratic and political spheres. I believe word of my visit would take weeks to reach the military, if it does at all. Which is why I was asking - if it'll be a short visit, it should be safe. If you're planning on staying for a long time, it might be risky for the crew if I let my presence be known."

Mal finished off his salad of bitter greens while he considered her request. He realized that Book was watching him with interest, so Mal turned to the preacher and to give him a _do-you-mind?_ look. When Book lowered his eyes to his plate, Mal finally replied to Inara.

"These days we can't be stayin' anywhere for long. Go on and do your business."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem." Mal stood up and gestured at Book's empty plate. When the Shepherd nodded, Mal took it and went to the sink in the galley.

"I'll be careful," Inara said. Mal didn't answer, so she stood up and turned to leave.

"Inara?" Mal said just as she reached the hatch.

She turned back. "Yes?"

"Thanks for askin'."

She nodded and might have smiled at him, but Mal lowered his eyes to the dishes so he wouldn't have to see it.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon quietly slid open the door to River's room. The mattress he'd brought in it to protect himself during _Serenity_'s careful acceleration was still on the floor. He set the plate he was carrying on the table at the end of her bed, and sat down on the mattress.

River was still out, curled up on her side facing him. It wasn't real sleep; he'd had to sedate her to make her lie still. Her unstable state had lasted a few days now, but an explanation for it had occurred to him after what she'd told him on the catwalk yesterday, about how a person needs to know what they want.

In all the months since he'd gotten her away from the Academy, she'd never been as lucid as she was during the days that the Captain was held by the Alliance on Oeneus. It was possible that there'd been something about that situation, about her mental contact with Mal, which had helped her. And now it was wearing off.

Simon thought he understood what it was, and he should have seen it sooner. River was confined to this small ship, with little to do and limited social interaction. How different this was from the activity and society she'd been accustomed to as a child. Like him, she'd had every day filled with mental and physical challenges, and like him, she'd thrived on it. Her time at the Academy, while obviously less pleasant, must have been similarly active. River had never had to deal with empty time.

Here on _Serenity_, Simon had developed a routine to help him pass the idle time that often dominated his life. He'd gotten through many a sleepless night planning new treatment regimens for River, and spent long days maintaining the infirmary way beyond necessary orderliness. And then there were the jobs, the sudden life-or-death situations that fired up his adrenaline. It exhausted him and he wouldn't call it fun, but it made him look forward to the long journey to follow, when he could relax with a sense of accomplishment at his patient's recovery. How would he have fared without his work to give him a sense of purpose?

River had nothing like that. When she was sleepless, when nightmares and voices she couldn't silence filled her head, she had nowhere to turn. All the hours she spent drawing or exploring dark corners of the ship, she was just looking for something to get her out of herself. Her only respite lay in the drugs he was always ready to give her, but that was a bandaid, not a cure.

Helping the Captain had been a boon for her. Not only did it distract her from the workings of her surgically altered brain, it gave her a sense of being important, useful for the things she could do and no one else could. Instead of fighting what the Alliance had done to her, she'd used her abilities to help Mal. She'd turned her handicaps into strengths.

Simon sighed, seeing his shortcomings clearly. With his background, he had automatically assumed that only medicine could help her, and he'd tried to make her the person she used to be by shooting her full of drugs. That approach was too limited. He needed to think like a psychologist.

No one could thrive without some sense of purpose and usefulness; he needed to help River find that.

"It's a good idea." River's voice floated across the room, soft and sleepy.

"I didn't realize you were awake," he said softly, looking up into her half-open eyes.

"Not yet," she replied, eyelids heavy as she fought off the remains of the sedative. "Almost."

"You like the idea?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You understand? Because I'm not sure I do yet."

She rolled to her back and closed her eyes. "Makes sense, Simon. They changed me. No good trying to make me normal. Don't fit the mold. Hurts to squeeze."

"I can't make you what you were," Simon said sadly.

"Don't need to. Shouldn't try."

"But I can help you be happy with who you are now."

"I can be useful. I can help."

"It will make you feel good, having a purpose of your own. One's that true to who you are."

She turned her head to him and smiled, her eyes more awake now. "That's what I meant. Couldn't explain. Too close to the problem."

Simon smiled back. "That's why I'm here, mèi mei." He pushed himself to his knees by her bedside and reached out to take her hand. "So how shall we go about this?" he asked.

.*. .*. .*.

"Captain's been a little tense," Wash said while he chewed. "I mean, more than usual."

"You think so?" Zoë replied.

"Yes I do. You do too, don't deny it."

Zoë frowned at him, but didn't argue. He knew her too well. "He's always had his moods," she said. "No big deal."

"Do you think he's really recovered?" he asked. "I mean, something like that…"

"He can handle it."

Wash set down his plate on the desk and shifted over to their bed, stretching out and patting his full belly contentedly. "Haven't you wondered about it?" he asked. "I mean… having to live your worst nightmares. All that stuff in the back of your mind that you never even think about."

Zoë had finished her dinner too, but she stayed where she was.

"What do you think would have happened, if it'd been you?" he asked.

"Let's not talk about it."

"Really, I'm curious. When Mal was going through all that, you regretted not talking to him more. Like it might have helped him if he'd vented it. And most of the things he's been through, you have too."

"That's very insightful of you, dear."

"That's me, insightful guy."

"Let's not talk about it." She moved to the bed and crawled over him.

"I have ways of making you talk," he told her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"And I have ways of making you not talk," she replied, sliding a hand down his body. "At least, not coherently."

Wash exaggerated a back arch. "Whazuh gerbuh hyaaaa…" he groaned loudly. "My god, what are you doing to me, woman?"

Zoë laughed. As always, he distracted her as much as she distracted him.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee thought the craft already looked much better without the roof. She'd cut that off right away – it was just for blocking sun, but the mule would be faster and easier to handle without the extra weight on top. The large sheet of metal composite was tilted against the stairway by the hatch to the infirmary, attached to the railing so it wouldn't fly about if they lost grav.

She'd managed to rig cables to hold the craft a foot off the deck, and she scooted underneath to get a better look. The rust on the thrusters wasn't as bad as it had seemed; the structures would work for a while, and hopefully she'd find replacements on Niflheim. The real problems were the fuel line and empty fuel cells, and the crankshaft that connected the steering controls to the engine.

"Um… Kaylee?"

Shiny black shoes were standing next to the craft. She rolled out and sat up.

"Hey, Simon! Wanna help?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask for your help with something."

Kaylee made it a rule to never say no to someone asking for help, but this one was hard. She cast a look of longing at the hovercraft.

"But I'm…" She stopped and bit her lip. She really did hate to say no, especially to Simon.

"It won't take any of your time," Simon said. "You could still work on the hovercraft."

"Oh. Well, then, sure! What d'ya need?"

Simon actually sat down on the dirty deck next to her, and wrung his hands a little. Kaylee realized he was nervous. "Actually, I should explain it before you accept. You see… it's a little… personal."

Kaylee smirked and slapped his shoulder playfully. "Simon Tam wants to get personal with me?"

"Actually, River does." He looked over his shoulder. River was on the stairs, her eyes just peeking over the hovercraft's ex-roof.

Kaylee cast a confused look at River.

"No - not like that!" River called out.

Simon looked confused, but only for a few seconds. He blushed when he worked things out. "No! Not at all! I just…" He took a deep breath and scratched his head. "How do I say this?"

"You just say it, ninny!" River said impatiently, and skipped down the steps. She sat down next to him and looked at Kaylee, eyes wide. "Let me read your mind," she said.

"Oh," Kaylee said. She looked back and forth between the Tams. "Oh! Um… well, I dunno know – that's kinda…"

"Weird," River finished her thought. "I know. But I wouldn't go far in. Just the surface."

Simon tried to explain. "I want… River wants to learn how to control it."

"Control it?"

"Her ability to read. I reduced her medication, to make it easier for her, and she's going to try to… listen."

"I'll just sit here while you work," River said.

Kaylee looked at the girl doubtfully. "You could'a just done that, you didn't need to ask."

"Wouldn't have been right."

"Well… " Kaylee glanced at Simon, then back at River. She really did want to help, and it was hard to refuse the doctor when he looked at her like that. "Okay. It's okay. I'll try." She smiled hesitantly. "But you can't go tellin' people what you see in here," she pointed at her head, "if it's private. Okay?"

"Okay!" River smiled brightly. "You can go away now, Simon."

"But I…"

"Need only one mind around. Go away."

Kaylee relaxed a little and laughed when Simon just stood up and did as his little sister told him.

.*. .*. .*.

Jayne was sprawled on his bed, his empty plate on the floor and one of his growlers of beer tucked under his elbow. It was noticeably lighter already.

"Gorram mule. What the guĭ was I thinkin'?" he muttered, and took a long draw from the jug. "Never gonna live it down."

The worst thing was, he was gonna have Kaylee looking at him like she had in the cargo bay, like he was Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny all in one. She'd be thinking she had some reason to be hugging him and kissing his cheek, like she was always doing with the captain.

Gorram girl didn't understand it was just business. They'd been needing a new mule since they blew up the old one on Niska's skyplex. Now they wouldn't have to hire other folks to move their stuff, and his cut would be bigger. That was the bottom line.

It'd been a good chance to get Mal off his back too. Not that Jayne thought he'd done anything wrong, but Mal sure did get testy. It wasn't a bit fair – wasn't Jayne's fault those folks made beer with more alcohol than Mudder's Milk. No way he could have known that.

_You could'a asked. Or you could'a drunk water and sat by Kaylee when those fellas moved in on her, acted like the cold hard professional you think you are. What if they had sweet talked her away…_

Jayne took another long drink to silence a voice he wasn't used to hearing. That was stupid thinking. Girl should learn to take care of herself, or she should go the hell back to her dumpy little world. It wasn't his job to look after some silly chit who didn't know enough to care for herself. That voice in his head was just Mal's worries rubbing off on him.

"Stupid girl," Jayne muttered as he slid onto his back, the bed spinning under him. The last thing in his mind before he passed out was the memory of that gorram mechanic pressed against him with her hands locked behind his neck, smiling at him like he was something special.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee was self-conscious at first, and had a hard time focusing on her work. But when she scooted out from under the mule to grab her torque wrench and found River already holding it out to her, she thought that this might not be too bad.

And it wasn't. After a half hour, it got to be like she had four hands and twenty fingers. River was always where she needed assistance, just as she realized she needed it. Handing her tools, helping with stuck parts, even running up to the engine room to grab a power generator to she could test each system as she repaired it. And not a word needed to be spoken.

The next four hours were incredibly productive. They rebuilt the steering shaft and checked the antigrav system. When they finished connecting the power generator to the engine, Kaylee put the thought clearly on the top of her mind:

_you do the honors_

River smiled and climbed into the driver's seat. The engine powered on with a purr that wasn't quite smooth, but it didn't die out. River tested the thrusters, lifting a few inches so that the chains hanging from the ceiling sagged loosely. Lightly she tapped the steering column, and the craft shifted slightly side to side.

River grinned joyously as she returned the craft to its starting position and shut it off.

"You did it!" she yelled, then hopped out and hugged Kaylee ecstatically.

"No silly – we did it!" Kaylee replied, returning the hug. "That was amazin', River!" She stepped back, still holding River's arms and looking at her friend with wide eyes. "That was just… We got so much done - it woulda taken me all day to do by myself! I wish you'd done that before!"

River's smile faded.

"River, what's wrong? You okay?"

"I'm okay. I'm just…" Kaylee was shocked to see River's eyes get a little watery. "I'm sorry, Kaylee, but I've done it before."

Now Kaylee's smile faded too. "You've done… what?"

"Gone into your mind."

Kaylee dropped River's arms and stepped back. "Gone into my mind? Without askin'?"

"I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have. But sometimes it's so hard, there's voices everywhere, not just the people here but old voices and…. I can't make them be quiet. And if I can't sleep… sometimes I find you and I listen."

Kaylee stepped back again, but River followed her. "Please don't be mad. I tried all the others but they have dark places. They have so much that hurts and they can't help. Even Simon, he worries so much, But you… you don't have any dark. When you fix the ship, you love her so much and you're helping her. I pretend it's me and it makes the other voices get quiet. It helps me sleep. I never listen to anything personal. I try really hard not to."

River was crying all out by the end of this, and Kaylee's heart melted. She took the sobbing girl in her arms and held her.

"Your mind is so peaceful," River continued. "Even when you're mad. Especially when you're mad because it's never a mean mad. It goes right through and doesn't leave any bits of dark caught up in the corners. Your mind is the safest place on the ship." River finally seemed to run out of things to say, and trailed off to a few soft sniffles.

"Ya know what, River?"

"What?"

"I think that's the nicest thing anyone ever said to me."

Kaylee could feel River's answering smile against her shoulder.

"But sweetie?"

"Hmm?"

"When I'm thinkin' bout your brother – "

"I know. Private, stay out."

Kaylee leaned back to look at River. "You _know_?"

River only blushed in response.

.*. .*. .*.

After dinner, Mal warned everyone to strap down tight; the deceleration would begin in the early morning, and they'd be arriving mid-morning ship time. Mal sat at the head of table, brooding quietly as they wandered off to bed, one by one, all except Kaylee.

Sometime in the wee hours Mal forced her to leave the hovercraft. He helped her get settled in her temporary bunk in the engine room.

"You just sleep tight, li'l Kaylee," he told her. "You got a lot to do tomorrow, and I can't have you all sleepy eyed. If anything breaks, Wash'll call you over the comm."

"Right, Cap." Despite her protests when he'd dragged her out of the cargo bay, her lids had started falling closed as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Mal checked that the comm unit was securely taped to the bulkhead next to Kaylee, and wouldn't go flying about if the grav broke. When he looked at Kaylee again, she was sound asleep. He smiled fondly and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders before he left the engine room.

He went to the galley for a fresh cup of tea, and settled into a seat in the lounge. There was no point in trying to sleep. His tendency to worry over the crew wasn't the only thing bugging him of late. He couldn't place what was getting to him, just a general sense of ill ease, of trouble on the horizon.

Guess that was to be expected, seeing as very few things were going right. But he'd noticed that the feeling was worse after he slept. Some mornings he'd wake up with his hands clenched in the sheets, body covered in sweat though the blankets lay on the floor. And that sense of being hunted would stay with him for half the morning.

Following the pattern he'd fallen into over the past week or so, he simply avoided thinking about it too much. Of all the things he was worrying about, his sanity didn't need to be one of them. That would just feed on itself. _Just take one thing at a time_, he told himself. _Fix the ship, don't fret about the rest till you have to._

He pulled a deck of cards from a shelf under the table, shuffled, and laid out a game of solitaire.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
húndàn: bastard  
guĭ: hell  
huài le: shit on my head  
mèi mei: little sister

* * *

**Chapter 5.**

Beyla Skulde's aristocratic face didn't change when a woman's gruff voice came through the receiver in her ear. She also didn't miss a word that her nephew Peter was telling her about the lovely woman standing next to him; she waited for him to finish his sentence before she lifted an embroidered handkerchief to her face, turned away, and spoke quietly into her right hand: _I'll be right with you._

"Are you all right, Auntie Beyla?" Peter asked.

"Oh, yes, thank you. I have a small business matter which requires my attention. I'll need a few moments. Could you handle the introductions for me?" She inclined her head toward the elegantly clad guests gathering in the foyer.

"Of course."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Serra," Beyla said to the woman who made such a proper ornament for Peter's arm. "I look forward to chatting with you over dinner."

"Myself as well," the Companion said, and she smiled warmly. "Auntie."

Beyla smiled her pleasure at the familiarity before she slipped through a doorway behind her and passed swiftly down a short passage. Peter's haphazard attitude about the family business, not to mention his personal habits, had always worried her. But he'd earned a pat on the head for finding a Registered Companion to bring tonight. Not that she believed he'd been intimate with her; did the man really think old age led to gullibility?

She entered a private office and closed the door behind her, then held her right hand to her mouth again. The transmitter cunningly fit into a ring on her middle finger, and she triggered it with her thumb before she spoke.

"Ginger, my dear, how are things proceeding?"

Beyla powered up the screen in the desktop while the reply came through. _These folks are fools. We'll have their ship in a few. Thought you'd wanna have a look. _

Such poor diction, Beyla thought with a sigh. "How kind of you to think of me."

_Locate my signal yet?_

"The visual is coming up now."

The satellite image on the screen tracked to Ginger's signal, showing a grounded Firefly transport ship and the apparently empty land around it. Beyla touched an icon on the left side of the screen to activate the motion tracker. There were a few seconds of chaos until the system recognized the pattern of the winds that stirred the dead trees, then only four points were highlighted. Three were the strange shapes of people walking as viewed from directly above. The fourth was a woman lying on her back, waving one arm over her head. Beyla used her index finger to draw a box around the woman, and the view zoomed in. The resolution was so high that Beyla could clearly see the ridiculous goggles over the sniper's eyes.

_You got me?_

"Yes, thank you. You'll have the ship soon?"

_Shouldn't be a problem. _

"Very good." Beyla zoomed out a bit and panned the image over to the ship. It didn't look like much, but it should be able to reach orbit, and this class of transport had a cargo bay door large enough to load what she needed.

"Let me know when you reach the harvester, so I can time the rendezvous."

_Will do._

"Good luck, deary."

Beyla stayed a moment longer, watching the three figures closing in on the Firefly. Two disappeared under the front of it; the third scrambled up the back.

She was about to switch off the screen when a new figure entered from the side, moving fast. Beyla couldn't make much of it from the overhead view, except that it was human. She zoomed in on Ginger again and saw that the woman was tracking the runner with her sniper rifle. Ginger had it under control; Beyla had chosen her recruits wisely.

She turned away from the monitor with a satisfied smile on her face, stepping to the window for a moment's peace. Her Cartel's platform was positioned over the middle of the rings, which made a large flat expanse below her, perfectly smooth and solid except for the few gaps.

By some convenient accident of cosmic history and gravitational stability, the outer sections of the rings had a different composition than the rest. Beyla could see a small section of them from here; they flashed as the light of the sun broke apart in the crystals concentrated in them. A true fortune, a nearly endless source of valuable material, easy to mine and requiring no expensive transport through the planet's gravity well.

Her Cartel was making great profit off of those sparkling rocks, enough to keep her in luxury for however many years remained in her frail body. But that wasn't enough. Beyla wanted her name to become a part of the Alliance's history. She wanted to see her nephew Peter elevated to a position of power before she passed, and for that she needed more political clout. She'd found a way to get it, and, as a bonus, it meant taking down her primary competition.

Oddly, she was depending on a few washed up Alliance soldiers, a farmer turned small-time criminal, and a battered old transport ship to do it. Her mouth curved at the irony; life had thrown her an odd twist of fate.

.*. .*. .*.

One day ago

Mal sat alone at the dining room table, idly chewing a bit of smoked bear. He'd abandoned the deck of cards some time ago.

Everyone else was still asleep. Before long, Wash would be getting up to start _Serenity_ on her long deceleration into Niflheim, and Mal would have to take his sleeplessness to his bunk and strap in. But not yet, he had a little more time to kill.

He thought back on the trip: only one day, and it had been a dull one. Book had provided some company, but Mal wasn't chatty and they'd quickly run out of things to say. The rest of the crew had hardly made an appearance. Jayne had his beer, Zoë and Wash had each other, and Kaylee had the hovercraft. The mechanic had an assistant, too. Mal knew Simon was up to something with River, but the girl was behaving so he let them have their secrets. Anyhow, Kaylee seemed pleased with the girl's help.

Inara had hardly come out of her shuttle. He supposed she was busy sorting through potential clients. It wasn't a bad thing, he told himself. Maybe if she got some work she'd get out of whatever bad mood she'd been in.

Funny – _got some work_. He still had a hard time referring to she did as 'work'. Wasn't how he'd been raised to think of the act involved. Of course, very little in this verse was the way he'd been raised to think of it.

He felt a wave of annoyance, tinged with a deep bitterness. She'd actually asked his permission. So now, on top of everything else, he had to concern himself with Inara's sex life. Next she'd be wanting him to hold her hand, lead her to whatever rich loser had contracted with her and pass her off with his blessing.

He pushed the chair back and got up. He was sick of sitting – might as well have a stroll while he still could.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara started to sip her tea, then noticed that it had gone cold and stale. She set it aside and went over the list of offers again.

The first ever visit of a Registered Companion to Niflheim had been well received, and she had offers from what seemed like half the officers of the top Cartels. A half dozen of them stood out as warranting first consideration. She touched the screen, sending a wave to one of them.

"Balder," she said warmly to the handsome face on the screen. It was late morning for him, and she'd waved him at his Cartel's orbital office.

"Please," he replied with a laugh, "I go by Peter, from my middle name. My parents did love their mythology, but they didn't spare much thought for modern meanings."

She smiled, pleased by his easy manner, and studied his full head of blonde curls.

"The modern meaning of the word certainly doesn't apply to you, Peter." Indeed, he had more in common with the mythological god who shared his first name: clean white skin and clear eyes that shone with childlike innocence, although the profile he'd sent her placed his age in his mid thirties.

"Thank you, Miss Serra. I take it you got my offer?"

"I did, it's very generous," she lowered her eyes modestly.

"One doesn't often have such an opportunity. And out here 'not often' really means never!"

"We are quite a distance from the Core," she agreed.

"So is my offer enough?"

"It's more than adequate."

His eyes lit up even more. "You've decided then?"

"Not quite." She smiled to soften the statement. "I prefer to talk to all my potential clients before I make my decision."

"I see, I have competition." He grinned mischievously. "I must tell you all about my plans then, to tempt you."

"Tempt away." Inara found herself warming to his exuberance.

"It just happens, we are having the party of parties tomorrow."

"Indeed?"

"Oh yes. One of the shining stars of the great Skuld house will be finishing his years of exile and returning to Londinium in three days time, and tomorrow is his goodbye party."

"A shining star?" Inara let her eyes sparkle so he'd know she was teasing him. "Now who could that be?"

"You guessed it. But as silly as it is, anyone who is anyone will be there, which, granted, isn't a big crowd in this system. But… you could take another offer and be just a guest, or you can come with me and be on the arm of the big star himself." His self-deprecating expression conveyed a different meaning than his words.

"That would be quite an honor," she replied, trying to be serious, but the look on his face made her laugh.

He sighed. "Seriously, Miss Serra – "

"Please, call me Inara."

"Inara then, my Aunt Beyla insists on throwing this dumb party and the fuss makes me crazy. It would spare me a great deal of suffering if the xiánhuà-mongers had something to wag their tongues about besides the cut of my suit. So you see, I really have a need for you that no one else can match, no matter how tempting their offer…"

Inara laughed at his definition of need. "You _are_ in a difficult spot. I'll keep that in mind."

"Thank you, Inara." He turned as someone off screen spoke. "I'm sorry, always work to be done. Whatever your choice, it has been a thrill just to speak with you."

"Thank you…" But a thought rolling around in the back of her mind wouldn't let her be. "And Peter…"

"Yes?"

"It may seem forward of me to ask this…" she looked to the screen for his permission to continue, and he nodded, his eyes alight with interest. "You said you're leaving for Londinium in a few days?"

"Back to the light of civilization," he confirmed with a sad sigh.

"You don't sound happy about it."

"It's a drawback of being heir to an up-and-coming Cartel. Once I get back it'll be all fundraisers and meetings with Parliament and the press all over the place. Can't have so much as a hair out of place when you live in the Core."

Inara looked over his full head of hair again; she imagined he'd look just fine with a few hairs out of place. "Life in the spotlight can be somewhat constricting," she said.

"I see you understand."

"Yes, I do. However, there are certain things about the Core that one can start to miss."

"You've been out here long?"

"About as long as I can take," she admitted, then continued hesitantly. "Which is why I asked – "

He held up a hand in the corner of the screen. "Please, not another word. Of course there's room for you on the yacht. It would be a relief to have your company for the trip."

"Thank you Peter. I'll… notify you of my decision by day's end."

"A pleasure, Inara Serra."

He cut the connection, and Inara's screen switched to show miniatures of the five men and one women whose offers she was considering. The others would have a difficult time competing with Balder Petrovsky Skuld.

As for the opportunity for transport to the Core, that she'd need time to consider.

She was still staring blindly at the screen, lost in thought, when the hatch opened with a small clang. She knew who it was, and cursed to herself. Why did he have to show up now, before she had time to decide her plans? Before she'd really thought it out?

"Captain," she said without looking over her shoulder, "have you ever considered that walking into a lady's private quarters in the middle of the night could be misconstrued?"

"Ain't the middle of the night. More like early mornin'."

Inara glanced at the bottom of the screen, surprised to see that he was right. "My question still applies."

When he didn't answer, she turned in her chair. He was standing a few steps behind her.

"Wash'll be locking us down soon, won't get another chance to talk before we arrive. I saw your light on, thought I should find out what your plans are." He tilted his head and looked past her, openly studying the screen.

"I will have a client. There are several options, as you see," Inara said.

"Not bad," he replied with a nod, then he leaned over her to point at one of the faces. "I'd go with that one, he looks particularly lusty. "

She knew she shouldn't ask. He had that slight tightness in his jaw, a sure sign that she'd be better off keeping this conversation short. But the words slipped out. "How so?"

"Somethin' in the eyes says 'please take my money, or I'll never get laid'."

Inara felt her ire rising. How did he always manage to do this to her? She realized she needed to finalize her plans, to get him out of the shuttle before they could fight again, so she made her decision.

"Actually, I've already chosen my client and it won't be that one," she said.

"No? What could be hotter than desperation?"

It was too late; she was angry. Her voice was falsely sweet as she explained. "Actually, you're not completely wrong. They're not desperate, but they are eager for my company. Attracting a Registered Companion would be a major victory for any house, one they are willing to pay dearly for. I've had extremely lucrative offers from members of the biggest Cartels on the planet."

"Oh, I see," Mal raised his eyebrows as if he was mighty impressed. "A bidding war. Must be quite an honor."

Inara couldn't stop herself from huffing in exasperation. Was he really saying that sarcastically? Didn't he realize what a honor it truly was? She'd trained for many years to be able to command such respect.

"Actually, it is an honor," she replied tightly. "Not that you'd know anything about it."

He shrugged off the barb. "So how xactly does it work? Rich folk sit around comparin' who paid more to get a woman in their bed?"

Inara turned back to the screen and tapped one of the small pictures with more force she'd intended, and Peter's profile came up. "I've decided to accept the offer from the heir to the Skuld Cartel. We're arriving at an excellent time. He's leaving for the Core soon, and there's much celebration planned for the next few days."

Mal considered the picture. "Well now, he is a pretty one."

"Yes. Charming too."

"And he's paying 'dearly,' huh?"

"It's quite a lot more than I usually receive."

"Quite a lot? Ah, right – the _honor_. Sex ain't the only thing that costs money for these folks, I guess. Now, would it be ethical to sell poor people sex and honor, or is it just food that ain't allowed to turn a profit?"

Inara bit back a sharp retort. Years she'd spent, her whole life, becoming the best at what she did. He'd never see that. For him, her profession would always be a degradation, and not the position of respect that she knew it was. And he'd always tear her down for it.

When she didn't answer his question, Mal got a smug look on his face, as if he'd scored a point in their ongoing battle. He went to take a seat on the sofa, probably figuring he'd take advantage of his victory.

When he turned his back to her, something inside Inara worked it's way free. For weeks, she'd been trying to avoid it, but she wasn't completely blind to what was happening. Her anger toward Mal was about more than defending her life as a Companion.

She was drawn to him; she felt something for him.

His back was still turned, and he didn't see her head drop. It was the first time she'd admitted it to herself so openly. But she couldn't let herself feel it. There was no future here, only continued sparring and pain. And she was doing Mal no favor by staying, by constantly lashing out to keep him at a distance. She couldn't allow this to continue.

She raised her head as he sat down. He looked at her expectantly, waiting to jump all over whatever she said. But she was done with the fight; she had a way out, and she'd be a fool to miss it.

The decision made, her indignation melted away, and she studied him with new eyes. He looked so tired. He wasn't a tyrant or a bully; he was just a man struggling to get by. And he had so much weight on him, so many cares.

"Everything costs money out here, Mal," she said.

He looked surprised at the softness of her tone. "Some things shouldn't be paid for," he replied, his voice challenging.

Inara wasn't going to be baited now. "I'm going to an orbital platform, so I'll leave before _Serenity_ enters atmo."

To her relief, he picked up on her mood and gave up the fight too. His face relaxed. "Lucky you," he replied. "You'll miss the chance to get squished to jelly on the ride in."

_The gravity drive_, Inara thought. She could at least help with that before she left. She took a deep breath.

"Mal, I am going to offer you something, but I don't want you to be offended."

"That don't sound like it's gonna involve fun little pills," he replied cautiously.

"No, it's not." She shut off the screen and turned her full attention to him. "I know you like to earn everything on your own, usually through the most difficult means available. But there's not been a lot of business for _Serenity_ lately. I'd like to help."

"Huh," he replied, studying her. Finally he scratched his cheek, then shrugged. "Last time you offered help, didn't turn out so bad." His soft smile asked her to remember, but she couldn't let herself.

"I have a fair amount of money. Especially after this next client."

Mal's eyes widened in surprise. "Your offerin' me money?"

"The ship needs work to make it safe, and you spent all you had on the cargo you're carrying. If you can't sell what you have for a decent price, you might not be able to fix _Serenity_."

He still looked confused, and a little suspicious as well. "I preciate it Inara, but I gotta wonder – we've had tight times before. Why you offerin' help now?"

Inara shifted uncomfortably, then tried another smile. "Mal, you and I have had some rough times, but I've had a good year here. You've… usually done your best to accommodate my needs. I want to do what I can to help because I'm…." She couldn't finish.

"You're what?"

"I just want to help all I can before I, um…"

Mal dropped his head into his hand. "Just say it."

"… before I leave."

He gave her a hard look, then stood up and walked to the bulkhead near the exit.

"You knew I was planning on leaving," she added weakly.

He turned back. "And you're offerin' me a bonus for services rendered?"

"I want to know that you'll all be okay."

"So you won't stay up nights worryin'?" Mal's voice dripped sarcasm.

"I don't want to fight –"

"Then what the hell do you want? You wanna buy peace of mind just like you sell honor to some pathetic húndàn?"

Inara stood up too, but walked toward the incense burner on the cabinet across the room from him. _I want to feel safe, _she thought, _I want to be where I belong_. But she didn't answer his question out loud. "My client is able to provide me transport back to Londinium," she said neutrally. "I don't have to pay transport fees, so I have plenty – "

"Congratulations," Mal interrupted. He snorted half a laugh. "You really hit the jackpot with this one. Bet he smells like roses, and has the biggest diăo in the system."

She turned to him. "Mal, don't be crude. It's time for me to go. I don't belong out here."

His smile fell. "Then why'd you come in the first place?" he asked, forcing the words out harshly like it was an accusation.

"That's… not important. But I never intended to stay forever. It's time for me to go back."

She looked to him for understanding, but he was a wall to her now. "Fine. Go on, and take all your hard-earned coin with you."

"Mal, please – "

"You paid your rent like we agreed, we're all square." He turned to leave.

She gave up the argument. There was no point. "Yes," she said softly. "All square."

He paused in the shadows just outside the hatch. "What bout the danger to the crew, the Alliance lookin' for me and all that?"

"Oh." She hadn't even considered it. "Of course, I wouldn't say anything that would help them – "

He interrupted her, his voice suddenly calm. "Not to worry. It'll be a while fore they find you, we'll have time to move on. Just tell the truth, you'll have the Guild to see you're treated fair."

She watched him as he looked back into the shuttle once, his eyes wandering like he was memorizing it, then his gaze settled on her again. Cool and stony and unreachable.

"Let us know where to pick up the shuttle after you've moved your things out."

Inara turned away from him. She hadn't even thought out the details yet. It was so quick. When would she say goodbye to the rest of the crew? Kaylee, Simon and River, Zoë and Wash. Book. Jayne. Gods, she was even going to miss Jayne!

She put a hand over her mouth, as if that would stifle the grief that suddenly swelled in her chest, nearly overwhelming her. Why hadn't it occurred to her before? Why had she decided so quickly? She needed to think…

"But I… I don't know – " she stammered as she looked toward the hatch again, but Mal was gone.

She closed and locked the door he'd left open, then returned to sit on her bed. She was still for several minutes, her hands clutched together in her lap. There was no one to see, but still she struggled to keep herself composed. She wasn't going to let herself cry over Mal. Never again.

She took a several deep breaths, then got up and started gathering the things she'd need for her appointment.

.*. .*. .*.

The alarm roused Wash at a truly ungodly hour. He turned it off and would have ignored it and cuddled back up to a very warm and cozy Zoë, but she pushed him away until he slid off the edge of the bed and out of the covers.

"Go do your flyin' thing," she mumbled as she turned over and went back to sleep.

"Guh?" Wash replied as he sat up and scratched his head. The cold metal of the deck was unpleasant on his bare behind, but it took some time for him to figure out that standing up and getting dressed would likely help with that.

A few minutes later, he climbed the ladder out of the dark cozy nest. He stopped by the bridge first, announcing over the comm that any crew not sleeping had twenty minutes to strap down before the burn started, then he headed to the galley to put together some snacks and a big cup of strong tea. He found Mal sitting in the dining room alone.

"Hey, you up already?" Wash asked as he lumbered down the stairs, stumbling a bit as he wiped his eyes.

"That I am."

"We okay to burn?"

"I checked the cargo bay, everything's tied down. Kaylee's sleepin' in the engine room. You buzz her if anything happens."

Wash looked up from the galley as the weariness in Mal's voice got through to him.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I got four hours comin' up when all I'll be able to do is lay in my bunk."

"Unless you want to come up front and play dinos?" Wash asked, waking up enough to be a bit playful.

Mal returned a tired smile. "Nah, I'll leave that to you." He got up and brought his half full mug into the kitchen. He had to wash it and put it away before leaving; there was no being lazy with a grav drive on the fritz. Wash looked at him more closely; the captain did look tired.

"Not so much with the sleeping lately?" Wash asked.

"Got a lot on my mind is all. Here, let me get that." Mal picked up Wash's mug so the pilot could carry both his plate of food and one of the few remaining packages of rice cakes.

"Thanks." Wash headed toward the bridge with Mal behind him. "Anything you want to talk about, Captain?" he asked. "I got nothing but time on my hands, and to be honest I'm running low on storyline ideas for Seeber and Queen T. Rex."

"Oh, yeah. And how are those two crazy kids doin'?"

"Great. Just don't let the Queen hear you call her a kid. She can be vicious." As he entered the bridge, Wash glanced back at Mal. "And how are you, Captain?"

Mal looked sidelong at Wash. "Ship's already got a doctor, Wash."

"I'm not trying to be a doctor." Wash set his plate down on the corner of the console. "I'm just asking."

"I'm fine." Mal held out the mug, so Wash took it and sat down.

"Seriously. I'll be bored to tears up here."

"You'll manage." Mal started to leave but stopped at the hatch and turned back. " Oh – Wash?"

"Yeah?"

"Inara's got a client and needs to leave from orbit. Buzz her once we get in and set things up. No need to bug anyone else about it – unless she wants you to."

"Sure." Mal really did look worn out, Wash thought. "How long you need to get settled?"

"Five minutes is fine."

"Sleep well."

Mal looked back at Wash like he thought the pilot was making fun. Then he nodded. "Right."

.*. .*. .*.

It was not a good time to have these particular engine problems, Inara thought. She had to lay still for four hours, with nothing to distract her from the thoughts that kept sleep at bay. She considered disobeying orders and getting up to pack, but if the grav failed she'd end up in the infirmary with, at best, multiple broken bones, unable to get away from Mal's lecturing. She couldn't imagine anything worse. So she huddled under her covers and tried to blank her mind.

But she couldn't. Maybe it was best anyway, to prepare herself for the next few hours, as unpleasant as it might be. When they reached Niflheim, Wash would cut the engines in orbit, and she'd have to do it. She'd have to go to the dining room and wait for them to gather, most likely still half asleep. Then she'd tell them she was leaving. They'd be surprised, and sad, but there wouldn't be time to say all the things that needed saying.

Of course, she could always go straight to her client, then return with the shuttle later to let them know. Then she'd have time to talk to each of them, to leave gifts, and to convince Kaylee to take the money Mal had refused.

The more she considered it, the more it made sense. It would be better to say goodbye to them later, after she had time to collect herself and could do it calmly. In fact, it would be dangerous to keep the ship in orbit any longer than necessary. Better to let them land as quickly as possible so they could work on getting _Serenity_ repaired.

Clients always had business to attend to; Peter wouldn't need her all the time. She'd find a chance to slip away and rejoin the crew for a few hours, explain the opportunity that had come up. That would work out for the best.

Inara passed the rest of the flight going over her belongings in her head, deciding on gifts for each member of the crew. Trying to convince herself that she was doing the right thing.

.*. .*. .*.

"Ladies and gents, we are in orbit around Niflheim," Wash announced. "Please don't get up yet, I need to work out a few things with Inara."

Mal laid still and waited for the call to the dining room. He knew he would have to go, to hear Inara's announcement and watch the crew's reaction, as much as he didn't want to. What would she do to say goodbye, shake hands? Offer him some incense?

The comm buzzed again: "Okay, she's gone. Mal, could you come to the bridge and tell me where to set down?"

Mal rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed, telling himself he was relieved to avoid the drama of a long goodbye. But he couldn't stop the words that repeated in his head: _She's gone._

.*. .*. .*.

It was mid-morning shiptime when _Serenity_ landed in a run-down docking yard in the city of Alsvidh, but it was late afternoon local. Mal and Zoë left right away to search for buyers, starting with a few recommended by Hans. It took almost two hours of running around before they finally located someone. Apparently, the population had been dwindling recently.

The one contact they found didn't seem to like Mal much. In particular, she eyed his outfit with distaste, but she was more than happy to buy the cargo. The money wasn't as good as Mal had hoped, but it should be enough to repair and fuel the ship with some left over. The buyer was eager to get the goods, but she needed time to arrange for transport and security – it wasn't safe to move such a large store of foodstuffs across town without several gunhands to guard it.

Mal was feeling the effects of his lack of sleep; he left Zoë to arrange the details of the exchange and wandered into the street. He did his best not to look at the planetary rings that adorned the sky, at the occasional glint of sun hitting the orbiting platforms. Inara was on one of those, and most like he wouldn't see her again before she left for good.

He must of really ticked her off, for her to just leave like this. Hell, what else did he expect? Did he really think a Registered Companion would –

He rubbed his eyes and told himself for the hundredth time not to think about it. He tried to occupy himself by looking around the local neighborhood.

It was a dreary place; half the buildings were falling apart and there wasn't a bit of green to be seen. The locals didn't seem to cotton to him any more than the buyer had. Mal watched a woman pushing two children in front of her, eyeing him nervously as she hustled around the corner. What a place to grow up. Mal had spent his childhood surrounded by the fertility of nature, his life centered on the needs of the livestock and the fields. How could people cope with living in a barren place like this?

"Pardon."

Mal turned toward the voice. The speaker looked to be quite the cowboy, dressed in black from head to toe, topped with a bucket hat and decorated with a large shiny belt buckle of a bucking bronc. His coal gray coat swung around him as he strutted up to Mal.

"Didn't I see you gettin' off a Firefly in the docks earlier today?"

The man's accent was a little strong, and suddenly the getup made sense. He had to be some escapee from the Core, doing his pathetic best to dress the part of rim world baddy.

"I got off one," Mal replied. "Whether you saw me doin' it or not is your business."

The man smiled, showing straight white teeth that glowed against his tan skin. He ignored Mal's gruff tone and extended a hand. "Name's Will."

Mal shook hands with a little smile that didn't reach his eyes. Something about this guy bothered him, and his hackles were up. "Smith," he lied.

"She's a real beaut. Yours?"

It took Mal a second to recall that Will was asking about his ship. "That she is," he replied.

"Ah, so it's _Cap'n_ Smith." Will's eyes and his grin showed nothing but respect and admiration.

Mal wasn't buying it; he aped the man's accent. "That's right, _Cap'n Smith_." He looked over his shoulder to see what was holding up Zoë, hoping the guy would take the hint and shove off.

"How much cargo she carry?"

Mal looked back. "You got some particular cargo in mind?"

"Yer a sharp one, Cap'n Smith. S'matter of fact I do."

Mal felt a slight temptation, but it died quickly. He didn't like this guy, and he wasn't gonna go against his gut. He had enough problems for one day. "She's all hired out. Sorry."

Will gave Mal a long look. "Sure bout that? It's a betty of a job I got."

"Shame, cause we're awful busy." Mal flashed a dismissive smile, but Will either didn't pick on it or didn't care.

"You might wanna think twice."

The man's tone suddenly wasn't so light. Mal gave him an up and down look; his eyes settled on Will's sidearm, visible when the breeze blew his coat back. That was no rim world peashooter; it was a laser guided pistol, commonly used by the Alliance military. Suddenly, Mal wanted to know a bit more about this guy.

"Say, that's a nice gun you got," he said.

Will didn't look down, but he let his right hand pass over the butt of it. "Had it since the war," he said, his smile losing just a bit of its pleasantness.

"Yeah, I kind'a figured," Mal said evenly, meeting Will's stare.

"Are you sure you're too busy for a little side job? The pay is good." Funny how the accent had gone away.

"Doubt it's good enough. In fact, I'm thinkin' you can't afford my rates."

Will freshened up his smile and put his accent back on. "Now, I'm ready to overlook the color of yer coat, so why don't you just relax bout my gun. It'd be a shame to miss out on business cause of what's long past."

"There's more to a job than money," Mal held the man's eye for a long second before he turned away. Zoë had finished with the buyer, and was giving Mal a questioning look.

"War's over," Will said to Mal's back.

"But free will ain't," Mal replied without slowing down. "My ship's not for hire."

Mal joined Zoë, cutting off her questions with a small shake of his head, and they made their way back to _Serenity_.

Mal followed Zoë through the crates stacked in the cargo bay, and wasn't surprised when she turned to question him as soon as they reached the open space near Kaylee's mule.

"Was he Alliance?" Zoë asked.

"Used to be, probably some grunt in the war. Don't know what he is now."

"Alliance?" Kaylee asked. She was crawling over the back of the hovercraft, one arm reaching down into it. River stood nearby, covered in grease down to her bare feet and holding an array of tools in her hands.

"No worries, Kaylee. I just made a new friend is all."

"Really?" she asked with a grin.

"Yeah." Mal grinned back, running his thumbs behind the lapel of his coat. "He liked my outfit."

"Well, who wouldn't?"

Mal found that he'd much prefer talking to sunny Kaylee than worrying over some odd stranger. "How's it comin'?" he asked with a nod at the hovercraft.

"Needs a fuel line and some power cells, and then it ought'a be up n runnin'!"

"Nuh-uh," Mal said with exaggerated doubt.

"Uh-huh!" she replied with an open-mouthed grin.

"In that case, how bout we go out tomorrow and get rid of some of cash I'll have burnin' a hole in my pocket?"

"Shiny, Cap'n!"

Kaylee turned back to her work with a smile on her face, and Mal figured it was time to move on and let her do her thing. "Where'd Jayne get to?" he asked as he moved on to climb the stairs.

"Ain't seen him all day," Kaylee replied.

"Confused," River mumbled. "Looking for himself."

Mal glanced at the girl. "That's somethin' none of us need to see," he said, then started up the stairs.

Zoë followed him. "He's probably passed out in his bunk," she said.

"Get him up and out here. I want you both to watch over these folks taking the cargo."

"You don't trust them, sir?"

"Zoë, I don't trust anyone on this rock."

"Why's that?"

Mal paused on the landing, looking back at her. "Cause this place gives me the creeps. Don't it bother you?"

"None more than half the other places we do business."

"Huh." Mal shrugged like it was nothing and turned to continue on his way. "Well, no matter, let's just get what we need and move on."

He felt Zoë's stare following him through the hatch. She was seeing it, seeing that he wasn't himself. He'd never been able to fool Zoë.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
xián huà: gossip  
hún dàn: bastard  
diăo: penis

* * *

**Chapter 6.**

Jase sat in the dust, leaning against the old transport to stay out of the burning heat of the afternoon sun. As often happened, he was bored. If Ray had let him keep the cables he'd bought, he could be working on the transport now, instead of sitting with nothing to do but wait for the gang to take the spaceship.

He picked a smooth round stone out of the dust and set it on the back of his knuckles. Deftly, he shifted his fingers to roll the stone back and forth. Funny the things you could teach yourself, given enough idle time. And Jase had idle time a'plenty.

_Nĭ shì wŏ zuì kŭ sè dī děng  
__Ràng wŏ huān xĭ yŏu hài pà wèi laí._

He sang softy in time with the rolling of the stone, thinking back on a day when there'd been a different voice singing the odd lilting tune..

_Nĭ zuì aì shuō nĭ shì yí kē chén aī  
__Ŏu ěr huì è zuò jù de piaō jìn wŏ yăn lĭ._

Back when the warmth of the sun felt good, and the trees still had leaves to make music in the breezes of autumn.

_Fŏng chuī laí di shā  
__Míng míng zaì kū qì  
__Nān daò zaŏ jiù yù yán liaŏ fēn lí?_

Jase had long ago learned how to keep his mind removed from his life. Bad things happened when he thought too much; he acted stupid, and made Ray mad. He should know by now that everything worked better when it went Ray's way.

It was just that he got these ideas. Sometimes they seemed good, and he couldn't shut his brain down. He went and did things, like spending Ray's coin on parts so the transport would run better, just cause some pretty mechanic told him he should. But she'd been so nice, and she kept a whole spaceship flying all by herself. It had seemed like a smart thing to do at the time.

He raised his free hand to his lip, swollen from where Ray had hit him, and absentmindedly picked at the dried blood. It had never even occurred to Jase that the transport wouldn't be needed once they took the spaceship. He should have thought of it; it's not like he was stupid, not really. Guess it just proved that he shouldn't think on his own. He should do what Ray told him. That was the deal they'd made the day Jase left home: do as Ray says, Ray will be the boss from now on.

But there was an idea floating around in the back of Jase's mind now. He tried to ignore it, focusing harder on the rolling of the stone and starting his song over. He would stay by the transport, he told himself firmly, wait till Ray sent for him. Then he'd move it over to the spaceship like he was told.

A dark shape moving in the deep blue sky caught the corner of his eye. He looked up, startled, and the stone fell off his hand. _Ray's leavin' me!_ he thought. But it wasn't a ship, it was just an old crow hoping to find something to eat.

He searched the dust again, found his stone, and picked it up. He didn't roll it this time, just held it loosely in his fingers as thoughts chased each other around his mind. Of course Ray wasn't leaving, that was a stupid thing to think. He'd send for the transport. Ray wouldn't abandon something worth money.

But the doubt ate at him, and he stared at his feet until the idea solidified and a voice he couldn't quiet spoke in his head: _He don't need the transport no more. That's what he said, he don't need it once he's got the spaceship._

"He's gonna leave me here," Jase whispered. After all these years, Ray was gonna go off the world and leave him to starve.

He jumped to his feet and pried open the back hatch of the transport, then reached into a hole in the top corner of the trunk to pull out a gun. He'd taken it off a man Ray shot more than two years ago. He'd kept it hidden ever since. Every once in a while, when he had time alone, he'd take it out and feel the balance of it, line it up at targets, and sometimes he'd even empty the cartridge and try pulling the trigger. But he'd never fired it for real. There were only four bullets; he didn't want to waste any.

Ray would take it away if he knew, but Jase figured one day it'd come in handy. Someday Ray would be in a tough spot and Jase would show up and shoot down the dāizi who was making trouble. Then Ray would thank him, and pat him on the shoulder proudly. Maybe even smile like he used to.

Jase tucked the pistol in the waistband of his pants. Without bothering to close the hatch he turned and ran up the hill. His mind raced. _Can't screw up. Not this time. What am I forgettin'? Can't be spotted…_

He pulled a bandana out of his pocket and tied it over his head to cover his chin-length black hair and keep it out of his face. When he reached the top of the ridge, he saw Will, Ray, and Hank walking across the open ground near the ship, looking right at ease. Jase crouched and made his way down as quick as he could, moving fast because he was short enough to duck easily behind the dry brush and splintered rock.

He reached the valley floor and leaned against the twisted remains of a tree trunk. Will had disappeared through the hatch on top of the ship, and Ray and Hank were standing at the bottom of the ramp, Ray talking in a loud voice to someone inside. Jase took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. Slowly, he stood up straight and started walking toward the open bay of the ship, trying to be as calm as Ray had looked.

Also like he'd seen Ray do it, he was approaching at an angle so he couldn't be seen by anyone inside. Ray and Hank were slowly moving up the ramp, Ray continuing to talk, and by the time Jase reached the ship he could just see their boots at the top of the ramp.

Jase leaned against the outside of the entrance and pulled out his gun, waiting. It couldn't have been more than a minute before the gunfire started. He peeked into the entrance to see what was happening, then jumped onto the ramp and took aim.

.*. .*. .*.

That morning

Kaylee hadn't had a chance to go out yesterday, too busy with the hovercraft, and this was her first chance to look around. She opened the ramp to let in morning air that was still cool and fresh. Well maybe not so fresh, she thought, crinkling her nose as the smells of the rundown city wafted past.

She squinted and rubbed her hands over her face. It was still the middle of the night ship time. That was the problem with traveling so much; the sun, when they had one overhead, never agreed with ship time.

When she finished clearing the sleep from her eyes, she noticed a small building across the way. The sign over the door said in Mandarin: _Hardware and Tech, Buy, Sell, Trade._ Kaylee's eyes widened and she glanced back into the cargo bay. Book was at the weight bench; he'd keep on eye on things if she stepped out for a minute.

As she walked across the wide dusty lane, she noticed a man in a coal grey coat standing at the entrance to the dockyards, talking to a boy with longish black hair who had his back to her. The man was old, well, too old for her, but kind of hot anyway. Darkly tan skin and brown-black hair. His dusty black pants and shirt did nothing to hide his nice build. Very rugged and manly, she thought, especially his arms.

The man glanced up and noticed Kaylee looking at him. She gave a small wave and called out cheerfully, "Mornin'!" He smiled back, and even at the distance she could see how his dark, deep-set eyes crinkled nicely. She sighed as she pulled open the door to the shop. "Antsy, antsy, antsy," she muttered to herself.

The shop wasn't much of a shop; it didn't look like they got a lot of traffic through here. Still, she found a fuel line she could adapt to the mule, and the fuel cells were standard. They cost twice as much as they would any place that wasn't at the edge of nowhere, but that was no surprise.

Will'd been feeling more than a little annoyed about the Browncoat. Captain Smith – if that really was his name – had been downright impolite yesterday, refusing Will's offer without even hearing it out.

But Will didn't think he needed Smith's permission, and Ray had agreed. It actually made it easier; they wouldn't have to come up with a payment or do any explaining about the job. Just take the ship and do as they pleased. No time to waste though; they'd been watching for a cargo carrier ever since the mysterious Aunt Betty had slipped them info about this job, and the deadline she'd set was only a few days away.

So Will had rolled out of bed early and made his way to the landing docks, hoping he could get some facts about the Firefly and her crew. Ray had told him to bring the boy along for errand running, though it was probably more to keep Jase out of Ray's way.

When Will saw the girl come down the ramp and head toward the tech shop, he figured it was time to get some real use out of Jase.

"She's going in the shop…" Will said, but he paused when the girl smiled and said mornin' to him. He smiled back and saw her sigh. His grin broadened in satisfaction; it was good to know he still had his charm.

"You see, Jase," he continued, "she's the friendly type. She'll talk to you. Find out how many crew they have. And where they're headed. And when they're leaving. Dŏng ma?"

Jase nodded and headed for the store. Will set off the other way; he had errands to run.

Kaylee heard someone come in the door and pick at a bin nearby; it was the boy she'd seen talking to the good-looking man outside. The kid was awful cute himself, though small and slight. Too young, she thought sadly, but he'd sure make some girl real happy in few years.

She gathered the parts for the mule near the checkout and wandered around one more time to check for the grav drive servo. Didn't seem much of a chance of finding it here, but she had to look.

"Uh, scuse me, miss?"

Kaylee turned and found herself staring into slightly slanted dark green eyes that looked distant, like he was thinking about something else. It was a little disturbing, but kind of intriguing too. Really was a shame he was so young.

"D'you know anything bout Kensai transports?" he asked.

"I might." She smiled. "What model?"

"I dunno," he admitted with a shrug.

"How many cylinders?" He gave her a blank look, so she asked. "You know the big silver things in the middle of the engine?"

"Oh. Four."

"How many exhaust ports?"

"One." He seemed happy to know that one right off.

"What's the problem with it?"

"Well," he tilted his head and tucked his black hair behind his ear "it's all sputtery when it starts."

"Then after maybe ten minutes it runs fine?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"And you ain't had her checked out in a while, huh?" Kaylee said. She added a grin and a roll of her eyes – wouldn't hurt none to flirt a little.

"Nah. Can't get stuff checked round here. Gotta do it all myself." He smiled too, but looked a little embarrassed. "I don't really know what I'm doin'."

"Come on," Kaylee said with a small toss of her head, and she led him across the shop. "What you need is a new set of cables, probably a new filter too." She handed the cables over to him. "These should do it. And get yourself something to clean the connections if it's been awhile." He gave her a confused look. "Soda," she suggested.

"You sure know a lot," he said shyly, carrying the stuff she'd handed him up to the counter.

"Well." Kaylee couldn't help but brag to the boy. He was so cute, and shy too. She liked that. "I do work on a spaceship." She gave a falsely modest shrug.

"Really?"

"Yep. Keep her in the Black all by myself."

"So what're you shoppin' for?"

"Well, we got some problems with the grav drive."

He handed his coin over to the shop owner. "Grav drive?"

"It makes the artificial gravity, for one." At his confused look, Kaylee explained. "When you're in space, there ain't no 'up'. So you need artificial grav to make up stay up and down stay down. It also keeps ya from gettin' slammed into walls when you change direction real quick." He still looked a little confused. "Well, never mind. Don't matter nohow." She sighed. "They ain't got our part here, guess we'll just have to stay on the world for a while till we find somethin'."

"Oh." He looked away from her, like he was bothered. Then he gathered up his cables and stepped away from the counter, nodding at her to follow.

He stopped halfway to the door, then leaned toward her and spoke quietly. "There's a lady, outside town. She's got all kinds of stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah, crazy old lady," he smiled. "Nice though, always makes tea and talks a lot. But she loves machines. Got all kinds of em. It's where Ray sends me when we need tech."

"Ray?"

He shook his head. "Don't matter. Just go see her. Name's Xiaojun. She'll sell stuff cheap, if you'll just let her talk at ya for a bit. Here's how to find her…" He explained the location. There was a dry riverbed that would lead real close; it didn't seem hard to get to.

"Wow." Kaylee felt a little overwhelmed. Also belatedly cautious. Just who was this kid anyway? "So… what was your name?"

He hesitated. "Um – "

The door slammed open and a familiar voice boomed. "Kaylee! There you are. What in the hell are you doin'?" Kaylee cringed a little, and noticed that the boy looked more alarmed than she did. She turned toward the hulking shadow in the door.

"I'm just shoppin', Cap'n."

Mal walked in and grabbed her arm. "By yourself? Without tellin' anyone where you're goin'?"

"It was just right across the – "

"I ought'a tan your hide, young lady." Kaylee might have laughed at that, but Mal was only half kidding. He turned and pulled her out the door.

As she left, Kaylee noticed that the boy had disappeared already.

.*. .*. .*.

Will went to find Hank first. He saw him through the front window of the deserted house Hank had been staying in the past few weeks. Hank's coarse beard was hanging down over his bare chest, his legs were in a deep lunge and arms extended in some kind of pose. Will recognized the exercise; it was that T'ai Chi crap he'd been forced to do in military training. Will didn't think much of this meditation pì huà, and he didn't hesitate to push the door open and interrupt.

"Hank, get your stuff together. The big job is going down today and we're leaving this rock, for good. No questions. Just meet at Ray's at noon."

Hank agreed with a nod, and Will went on his way. Hank may be nuts, but he was easy to deal with.

His next stop was Ginger's, and he'd figured it'd take a bit longer. Though they'd been working together, and more, for a long time, he hadn't filled her in about the job yet. Ginger had never cared much for details.

He found her at breakfast. She poured him coffee while he told her about the job and ship, and how she needed to gather everything she wanted to take with her off world. She didn't seem either surprised or excited at the news, nor was she upset that he hadn't told her until the last minute. That was part of why he liked her – nothing was ever a big deal.

"You're sayin' we're gonna be stealin' some ship and travelin' a long way?" was the only question she asked about the plan.

"That's it."

"Seems like we won't have no private time for a while."

He grinned, because he knew what she was thinking. "Probably not," he said.

She got up from her chair and walked around the table. He let her pull him to his feet and shove him against the wall.

"Best prepare then," she said.

"We don't have a lot of time," he warned her, but he didn't stop her hands on his belt buckle.

"Since when'd I ever need a lot of time, Will?"

She didn't, and he didn't mind.

Will's last stop was a shabby shack on the edge of what used to be the industrial district, back when there was industry. Ray could have chosen a much nicer place to call his own, but he was big on privacy, saying he needed a place to do business out of the eyes of the Cartels, even though he actually worked for one. Well, he had worked for one until today.

Will heard Ray's raised voice before he opened the front door, and he paused to look through the passage to the back room that made do for a kitchen. All he could see was Jase on the floor against the back wall, his face blank as he swiped at blood on the corner of his mouth. Ray's voice carried down the hall.

"If I wanted this stuff I'd coulda gotten it for half the price. And what are you doin' buyin' parts anyhow?"

"It'll fix the start-up prob– " Jase said.

Ray cut him off. "You think we got money to spare for gorram parts? The transport runs good enough for what we need!"

"But – "

"Didn't I tell you we're gettin' a ship? Why waste coin on a transport we won't be needin'? Stupid gorram fool. When are you gonna do as you're told, and quit screwin' things up?"

Will started down the hall. Ray was level headed most of the time, but he didn't have a bit of sense when it came to this kid. Will found it entertaining some days, but not this one. There was too much riding on getting this ship.

Will cleared his throat as he entered the room. "Ray," he said tersely.

Ray spun around, hand on his gun, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Tell me you got some good news," he said.

"Hank and Ginger should be here in a few. And we have intel on the ship."

"What'd you find out?"

Will nodded to Jase. "Boy here can tell you. He talked to one of their crew."

Jase slowly climbed to his feet, but didn't say anything.

"Well?" Ray demanded.

"She was just lookin' for parts," Jase said softly.

"She?"

Jase blushed and looked at the floor.

"Yeah," Will said. "She. Real cutie too. Are you sweet on her, Jase?"

When Jase didn't answer, Ray stepped closer to him and asked in a low voice, "What parts was she buyin'?"

"Something about a grav drive, about up bein' up."

"You ask her about the rest of the crew?"

"No."

"You know where they're headin'?"

Jase hesitated, then shook his head. "No."

Ray grabbed the boy by his shirt front, towering over him. "You never have been smart, and you can't lie worth shit. Now you tell me where they're headed."

"I told her about Xiaojun," Jase admitted, then he cringed at the rage that erupted in Ray's eyes.

"Explain to me why you told her that, and don't you even try to lie."

"She was nice. I wanted to help her."

Ray tightened his grip for a second. "Nice?" he asked, but then he let go and stepped back, shaking his head. "Idiot," he muttered. "You wouldn't make it five minutes in this world on your own."

"But she was all kinds a'helpful bout the transport, knew all kinds a' stuff. Seemed real jīng căi bout her spaceship too – "

Ray spun and his right fist set the boy on the ground again. "Don't you ever speak that crap around me," he spat.

Will sighed impatiently. "Half the verse speaks Chinese, Ray."

"He don't," Ray replied. He shook out his hand and turned to pace across the kitchen. "Now what do we do?"

"What do we do?" Will leaned against the doorway. "Jase actually did us a favor – we should be thanking him. Think about it; that Firefly is going to fly out into the middle of the desert. We get out there before them, see where they land, and then walk right in and take it. They won't be expecting an attack out there, and we'll have no worries about being quiet or avoiding dock security."

Ray looked at Will a second, then turned back to Jase. He didn't seem to be in much of a mood to express gratitude; roughly he hauled the boy to his feet. "You go to that shop and get my money back, and then wait by the transport. And stay out of my sight till we're ready to go. Got it?"

Jase nodded. Ray let go of him and the boy gathered the cables from a rickety table and left.

Will waited until the door closed, then he glanced sidelong at Ray. "Someday that boy's gonna hit back."

"No, he won't," Ray replied, with not a doubt in his voice.

.*. .*. .*.

Once he got back on _Serenity_, Mal calmed down enough to let Kaylee explain. He didn't like her description of the boy she'd met in the shop, but when she told him she'd found what she needed to finish the mule, he took her back over to buy the fuel line and power cells.

After that, they took Zoë and spent an hour walking around town. There weren't many tech shops, and nothing had more goods than the shop in the dockyard.

Turned out that Mal was glad he'd brought Zoë and her scary carbine along; it wasn't a good place to be wearing his coat. Apparently word of him had spread since the night before, and folks didn't look at him too friendly. They weren't discreet with their comments either. It appeared that the people here didn't properly appreciate their freedom from the strong arm of the Alliance, and they weren't real fond of the color brown.

.*. .*. .*.

When they returned to _Serenity_, Mal disappeared upstairs. Kaylee got right to work installing the new fuel line, ignoring the summons for lunch. River helped her for a while, but then said she was tired of thinking so much. Book sat beside the girl as she curled up in the common room outside the infirmary, keeping her company while she rested.

An hour after lunch, Simon stepped through the hatch into the bay. Kaylee didn't notice at first, all her attention was focused on the hovercraft. He smiled as he watched her, recognizing the air of tired satisfaction that surrounded her as she set down her tools and stood back to inspect her work. When she set about releasing the chains that held the craft in place, he stepped forward and laid a hand on the hovercraft.

"Hey, Simon!" Kaylee called when she saw him.

"How is it?" he asked, then lifted his hand and wiped at the dirt on his fingers.

"Ready to try out!"

"You might want to wait a few – " Simon was interrupted when _Serenity_ lurched slightly under their feet. Kaylee looked at Simon in surprise.

"We goin' someplace?" she asked.

He nodded. "Actually, I came down to tell you – Mal decided. We're going to find the mysterious Xiaojun. It should only take a few minutes to get there. Wash will get us close, than Mal will take you over in a shuttle."

"Can't we just land right there?"

"The captain's feeling a little… apprehensive."

Kaylee nodded. She'd noticed Mal's 'apprehensive' attitude, especially this morning. It wasn't like him to get so upset over her stepping outside for a few minutes. But it was worth it – the mule was ready to go.

"We'd be less conspicuous if we took this, don'cha think?" She patted it proudly.

"You mean it's…"

Kaylee smiled brightly as she unhooked the last chain and jumped into the driver's set. When she hit the ignition, the craft fired up with a satisfying roar, but she didn't notice the cloud of black smoke that billowed out the back of it. A slight nudge of the controls had it lifting a few feet off the deck, then Simon jumped out of the way as she steered it into the center of the bay.

"Oh, sorry!" Kaylee yelled with a grin, "I ain't so good at drivin'." Then she broke into a hoarse coughing fit.

"Um, Kaylee?" Simon said with a few coughs of his own. Kaylee looked around and realized why her throat was burning. She lowered the mule to the deck and shut it off as quick as she could, then she and Simon stumbled to the front of the bay to try to get out of the smoke cloud.

It was less than a minute before the ship landed, and Simon immediately had the cargo bay doors open. Kaylee ran up the stairs, shouting about opening the top hatch. Simon was about to walk out into the dusty but smoke-free air when he heard River call to him.

"Simon, wait!" She was jogging out from the common room, Book following her.

"River, come on," Simon said, extending his hand to her, intending to pull her outside with him.

"No! Come with me!" Without surprising tenacity she pulled him up the stairs next to the open bay door.

"River, we should go outside – "

"Dirtier there," she said with a wild distressed look.

"It's just desert, mèi mei."

She stopped and turned back to him. "Not wholesome!" she insisted, then she yanked his arm, leading him along the catwalk directly over the ship's entrance.

"River – "

"They're twisted!" She sank to her knees and grasped the railing tight with her free hand. "All wrong. Not healthy!"

Normally, Kaylee tried not to notice the hatch near the crew quarters. It was the one Jubal Early had used to get onto the ship, and she didn't like remembering that. But at the moment she was too flustered to get jittery about past events. If Mal had gotten mad about her leaving the ship without telling anyone, he was gonna be so mad about this!

Sure enough, his voice carried down from the bridge. "Kaylee, what in the seven hells is that smell?"

Kaylee peeked around the corner to see the man himself following his voice down the stairs. "Um – smoke?" she said in a small voice.

"Did you set my gorram ship on fire?" he asked, coming to a stop right in front of her, towering over her a bit.

Kaylee couldn't help cowering back. "No! Just… the new mule."

"You burned my mule?" Jayne asked. He was just coming up from his bunk, Vera slung over his shoulder.

"Not _burned_, 'xactly," she replied to Jayne, then looked at the captain again. "I kind'a forgot to check the new fuel line, must've had some gunk in it. I was in such a hurry – I wanted to have it ready…" she broke off with a cough.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal glanced at the open hatch – it was pulling all the smoky air up through the ship. This was no disaster. He held off on a lecture and shooed Kaylee down the stairs and across the cargo bay.

"Captain, wait!" River's shrill voice sounded from over his head as he neared the open bay doors.

Mal paused, looking up at River and Simon on the catwalk over the open door. Simon was holding a handkerchief over his mouth with one hand and trying to pry River's hand off the railing with the other.

"River, wouldn't you rather breathe clean air?" Simon asked, then he dropped the handkerchief so he could use both hands to try to break her grip.

"No!" She was tense with annoyance, and didn't look at Simon as she insisted, "Smoke is cleaner than rot!"

"Simon, you two okay up there?" Mal asked.

"Um, yes, we're just fine."

River leaned forward to look at Mal. "All dust," she said, still agitated. "Empty time eats up souls, twists them and spits them back out. Bad!"

Mal felt a little shiver run up his spine; he'd learned to respect River's ravings. He looked outside uneasily. Zoë and Wash had just passed by to join Kaylee, Jayne, and Book. "Simon, ship's airin' out already, you just keep River where she wants to be, okay?"

"Sure, Captain." Simon let go of River's hands and Mal started out, but then Simon called after him, "Mal?"

"Yeah?"

"Take it easy on Kaylee."

Mal gave Simon a tight-lipped stare before he joined the rest of the crew. He went to Kaylee first; the poor thing looked like she expected a whack to the side of the head.

"Come here, Kaylee," he said firmly. She did, looking dejected enough to break a heart harder than his. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the others.

"So does it work?" he asked.

"Wha'?"

"That fancy hover mule thing that stank up my ship – is it runnin'?"

Kaylee's face lit with a little hope. "Yeah," she said. "Real smooth." Then her face fell. "Except for the smoke thing. That should just burn off though, I'm sorry bout – "

"It seems we got lots a' breezes hereabouts to clear things out, so don't you fret. Let's go get your parts for the grav drive while Serenity airs, then you can fix her up and we'll be on our way and no harm done."

Kaylee's face brightened all the way and she hugged his waist. "Thanks Cap. You _are_ nice."

He returned her hug with one arm. "Don't go tellin' nobody that, you'll ruin my reputation. After all the years of bein' grumpy I put into it, too."

At a word from Mal, Wash went back into the ship to grab a few comm units and bring the mule out. Then Mal nodded to Zoë and the two of them stepped away from the rest.

"Kaylee says the mule can take four," Mal told her. "I'm sending two gunhands along with her and Wash."

"You think you need to?"

Mal looked at his feet. "River had some words to say about things hereabouts."

"What exactly?"

He shrugged, trying to be casual about planning a job based on a teenager's ravings. "Oh, somethin' about dust and twisted souls and somesuch."

Zoë didn't laugh; she looked around the stony valley, at the wind blowing between shattered pieces of rock and the remains of dead bushes and trees. "Ain't the nicest place we been to."

"Zoë, I'm feelin' a mite uneasy myself."

"Why is that? Sir?" She tried to hide it, but her look was a little dubious.

Mal gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Can't say for sure. Maybe it's that kid who talked to Kaylee… or this Xiaojun woman, why'd anyone have a tech shop out here?"

"We can't keep flyin' without a grav drive we can trust."

"No, we can't," Mal agreed. He took a deep breath and scratched his head, not sure what else to say.

Zoë took a deep breath and turned to face him square. "Cap'n, don't take this the wrong way – "

"Lotta women in my life tellin' me that lately," he muttered.

" – but you've had a tendency to worry overmuch. Since Oeneus."

Mal looked away from her, but he nodded. "I know it." When he looked back, she was watching him closely. He held her stare.

"I got a bad feelin', Zoë."

Her dubious look disappeared. "No harm in tryin' someplace else, sir. There're other towns."

Mal didn't answer for a bit, just turned away to think. It relieved him that Zoë took him seriously, but he had to admit he wasn't so sure himself. Gorram, he hated being all skittish. Wasn't like they'd never faced bad odds before, or scary unknowns. That was just life on the rim, and he'd never had such a problem with it before.

Mal sighed. He had to cut this out and take care of business. First things first: fix the ship.

"No," he decided. "Let's get it done. We been lucky with the grav drive holdin' out this long, and luck don't ever last. But two gunhands'll go. I ain't leavin' Jayne alone with the ship, so it'll have to be you that stays."

They turned at a roar inside the ship and watched Wash pull the slightly smoky hovercraft out of the bay. He left it idling while Book, Jayne and Kaylee climbed on to look it over. Kaylee took the front seat, standing up and gesturing as she described her plans to fancy it up. Jayne reclined in the back with his feet up, looking every bit like a proud new owner. All he was missing was a cigar.

Mal smiled. It was an impressive vehicle. Jayne and Kaylee had done good.

"Sir," Zoë interrupted his thoughts. "I'm thinkin' that a tech expert on a world that owes what well-bein' it has to the business of the Alliance might not be the best place for you to visit, dressed like ya are."

Mal looked down at himself. "What, am I behind on the season's trends?"

Zoë half-smiled. "I'm just sayin', you already made the worst dressed list in town."

"So now you're embarrassed to be seen with me?" Mal asked with a hurt tone.

"Sir. You're the one the Alliance is lookin' for these days, and you pay me and Jayne for a reason." She gave him the _I-plan-on-arguin'_ look that she saved for the most special of occasions.

Mal frowned and looked back at the mule. He really didn't like the idea of letting his people out of his sight. Hell of a mechanic, and hell of a pilot. Not a bad merc either, all things considered. He'd hate for anything to happen to them. But Zoë had a point. And, truth be told, he was in such a state as to overreact to things. He wasn't sure if he could count on himself to keep his calm.

He turned back to Zoë. Hell of a first mate.

"I honestly don't know what's got my back up, but you be careful, all right?"

"Always am."

He gave her an appraising look and nodded. "Yeah, you are."

Mal continued to hold her eye for a second, then turned to walk toward the mule, yelling over the engine, "All right kids, Daddy's gonna stay home. Aunt Zoë and Uncle Jayne got guard duty. Wash, you're drivin', Kaylee, you're shoppin'." He tossed his leather coin purse to Kaylee. "Buy only what you need," he told her firmly.

"Course Cap'n." Kaylee grinned at him, unruffled by his gruffness.

Book climbed down from the hovercraft and Zoë took his place while Mal continued his instructions. "Zoë, Jayne, you both got comms. Use em if you get in any trouble, or if the mule breaks down, or you see anything that ain't right."

"Don't worry," Wash replied. "We'll be home by midnight and I swear there won't be any drugs or sex. Mostly because we have no drugs and no one could possibly be into sex while they can smell Jayne."

"Hey!" Jayne complained. "I smell like a real man is all. You should try it."

"You smell like stale beer and vomit."

Jayne looked at Kaylee, who was too polite to agree and too artless to disagree, and settled on giving him a neutral shrug.

"Just be careful," Mal said. "And Kaylee?"

"Huh?"

"Nice mule."

Kaylee's smile rivaled the sun, but Jayne whined, "That's right, don't bother thankin' me none."

Wash hit the throttle and the hovercraft pulled away, kicking up a cloud of yellow dust. Mal and Book watched until the mule cleared the horizon, swerving side to side as Wash tested out the handling.

Mal's uneasy feeling settled over him again as the sound of the mule faded away. Something had his neck prickling, that's for gorram sure. He scanned the empty hillside one more time before he turned back to the ship.

"Everything all right, Captain?" Book asked as they walked up the ramp.

"Got a bad feelin' is all. Happens a lot these days."

"You sent them well armed. I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Yeah."

Once he was inside the ship, Mal looked up to the catwalk where Simon was still comforting a distressed River.

"Dust of dead trees and bones," she said sadly. "Not green anymore. No apples. No singing."

"She all right, Doc?" Mal asked.

River's eyes were unfocused. "It's all dead. Have to get out." Her voice rose. "Pick up the sparkly rocks and go!"

"I'm sorry, Captain," Simon said. "It's… I've been reducing her medication, and I guess I took it too far. But I just gave her an injection; it should take effect soon."

"It's all right, Simon, ain't no one gonna hear her out here. She's been walkin' the sane line for some time now, might help to let her have some crazy time."

"Do you need any help son?" Book offered.

"No, we'll be all right, won't we, mèi mei?" Simon turned back to River. He touched her shoulder and she sat up straight, and her eyes hardened as she stared down at Mal.

"I can shoot," she said, her voice suddenly distant but coldly confident. "All I need is a target and a gun worthy of me."

The lack of emotion in her voice sent another chill up Mal's spine. Judging from Simon's face, it had a similar effect on him.

"River, that's not what we…" Simon glanced down at Mal and didn't finish his sentence.

Mal noticed Simon's look. "Doctor, after we get out'a here we are gonna have a talk about what you've been up to with her."

"Really, Captain, I don't know where this is coming from. I've been working on helping her control what she senses, but…" Simon turned back to River, his face full of concern and confusion as her stern manner crumbled and she dissolved into tears.

"They're bad. Mean. I'm afraid," she said quietly.

Mal clenched his jaw hard enough to make a face. Every moment they spent on this dead world increased his discomfort, and River acting up certainly didn't help. "Let her have her crazy time," he told Simon, "but you make sure it don't involve guns or knives, dŏng ma?"

Simon stayed focused on River, but he nodded in response.

"I'll just go up and see to lunch," Book told Mal softly.

"Thank you, Shepherd."

Mal cast one more look at River, then he went to the control board near the aft hatch and set the comm to broadcast in the bay, just in case Zoë or Jayne waved. He wanted to stay where he could keep an eye on River.

In her hurry to finish the mule, Kaylee had uncharacteristically left her tools on the cargo bay floor. Mal went about gathering them into her toolbox, grateful to have something to busy himself while he waited. But the knot in his gut tightened, and he kept pausing to glance up at the Tams on the catwalk, or out the bay doors where the bright sunlight was caught in sworls of dust.

He tried to talk himself down. So he'd acted on the word of a stranger, big deal. It'd just been some kid trying to impress Kaylee. And as for visiting an unknown mechanic in the desert – Zoë and Jayne had walked into much worse situations. They weren't stupid, they weren't weak, and they weren't unarmed. They'd be able to handle it.

But all his reasoning didn't make him feel any better. Mal berated himself; he had to stop worrying over his crew like this. Zoë was right, it was that crap from Oeneus, echoing in his head. He'd never be able to get a thing done if he didn't get over all this gorram fretting.

He was picking up the last of Kaylee's tools when the prickles on his neck and the jitters in his belly came together as a twinge in the center of his back, and right then he knew that he'd made a mistake. And it was a big one. The trouble he'd felt coming wasn't at Xiaojun's; it was right here.

He turned to see two dark shapes standing at the bottom of the ramp.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
dāi zi: fool  
pì huà: nonsense  
dŏng ma: understand?  
jīng căi: brilliant  
mèi mei: little sister

Nĭ shì wŏ zuì kŭ sè dī děng dài  
Ràng wŏ huān xĭ yŏu hài pà wèi laí.  
Nĭ zuì aì shuō nĭ shì yí kē chén aī  
Ŏu ěr huì è zuò jù de piaō jìn wŏ yăn lĭ.  
Fŏng chuī laí di shā  
Míng míng zaì kū qì  
Nān daò zaŏ jiù yù yán liaŏ fēn lí?

Waiting for you is the most painful time.  
You make me happy and also scared  
You said you are a little dust  
That accidentally flies into my eyes.  
The sand that is blown by the wind  
Is crying in the dark  
Isn't that the sign of separation?  
- from Kū shā (Crying Sand) by Tracy Huang


	3. Part 3 of 9

**Easy Tickets: Part 3/9 (Chapters 7-9)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

* * *

Chapter 7.

Ginger had picked her spot well. She had a good view of the whole thing, of Will disappearing through the hatch on top of the Firefly, of Ray and Hank stepping up to the base of the ramp, and of that idiot boy standing next to the ship's entrance with a pistol in his hand, looking like he thought he was the gorram cavalry.

But she focused her attention on the Browncoat, back in the shadows of the bay, picking something up from the deck. The crosshairs of her sniper rifle centered on his forehead when he looked over his shoulder, glancing at the two men entering his ship. Bèn de húndàn didn't look bothered a bit, just turned his back and finished whatever he was doing.

_Will's right,_ she thought. _Too easy._

Just the way she liked it.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal paused for barely a second to look at the two figures on the ramp, then he went about his business. If they were out to shoot him, they'd have done it already. He turned his back on them to set the wrench he'd just picked up in Kaylee's toolbox, and took his time about closing and latching the lid. He stood up, wiped his hands together to clear them of dust, then finally turned to face his visitors.

The two men were black silhouettes against the bright glare of the desert behind them. The one on Mal's right was tall and lanky, the other shorter and thicker, with wild hair making his head look big and round underneath his hat. Mal couldn't see them well enough to make out any details, but he could tell that their guns weren't drawn. Not yet.

"Somethin' I can help you two gents with?" Mal asked in a neutral voice. He didn't let his eyes shift upward, but he was aware of River and Simon on the catwalk. The men couldn't see the Tams from the bottom of the ramp, and mercifully River had fallen silent.

"Mayhap you can," the tall figure called out in a deep monotone. "I need your ship."

"Seems lots of folks hereabout do, but I'm afraid she's all booked up." Mal still didn't look up, but he could see River standing and pulling Simon along the catwalk toward the hatch.

"No call to be hasty," the tall man replied. His voice was slow and even, void of threat. "It's good manners to hear the details of a job fore you turn it down." The men took a few steps up the ramp, and Mal's eyes were adjusting to the bright light behind them; he could make out a few things now. The tall man had his coat tucked back on his right side, and his hand hovered near a heavy old six-shooter on his hip. Otherwise, he looked quite comfortable, walking onto someone else's ship like he had a right to.

Mal let a strong hint of _I don't think I like you_ into his voice. "On my boat, I do the decidin' about what goes in the book of nice."

"Easy, stranger," the tall figure called out. "We ain't here for trouble."

"You ain't here by invite either." _Don't look up,_ Mal told himself. River and Simon had reached the stairs that led up to the hatch.

"Just cause we ain't invited, don't mean we can't do business. Name's Ray." He raised his left hand to tip his hat, then nodded to his side. "This here's Hank."

Mal glanced at Hank. The men were now far enough into the ship for the light through the high windows to catch them, and Mal could see Hank's eyes, glaring out between thick brows and a wild beard, fixed on Mal with an intensity that was just a little too bright. Then Mal's gaze traveled lower, and the gun he saw on Hank's hip made his mouth dry up.

_I'm in deep niú shĭ,_ Mal thought, and he changed his tactic.

.*. .*. .*.

Book shook his head slightly as he entered the dining room. He'd grown quite fond of River, and in the past month he'd gotten used to experiencing her as an intelligent and amusing, though eerily precocious, teenager. It was troubling to see her losing control of herself again. Troubling in a nonspecific way; he wasn't entirely sure whether to be frightened _for_ her or _of_ her.

_I can shoot,_ she'd said. _All I need is a target and a gun worthy of me._ Yes, they were all well aware that she could shoot. It'd be nice if she didn't feel the need to remind them.

_Dust of dead trees and bones,_ she'd also said. Book nodded to himself as he opened the cooler in the pantry. There was all of that on this world, and not much else. It was an unsettling place, and she wasn't the only one picking it up. The Captain felt it, and Book did too. This feel of Niflheim had changed since he'd been here six years back; it'd become something like a wild dog that might snap at you over nothing. He'd be relieved to leave it behind.

He took out the last of the grilled bear meat, and carried the platter to the table. He'd just set it down when he heard a small indistinct sound behind him.

He straightened and turned to find a man dressed in black standing in the hatchway from the bridge, a large modern pistol that didn't match his dusty cowboy outfit held steady and aimed at Book's chest. The man's face was shadowed by a black hat that sat low on his forehead, but Book saw enough of his eyes to understand that the man meant business. His challenging look made Book go icy inside.

He bit back the feeling, smiled and held his hands out to his sides. "Welcome, lái bīn. You've arrived just in time for lunch." Book nodded at the platter. "How do you feel about bear?"

The man ignored the question. "How many on board?"

Book lifted his brows in confusion. "How many bears?" he asked lightly.

"Don't get smart with me, old man. I have business to do and I don't like delays. How many on board?"

Book stayed cool, pausing to think, and his eyes caught the sunlight in the hall behind the man. _The open hatch – he came down through it. If he knew it was open, he's been watching the ship._

"Most of the crew is out for a drive," Book said.

The man didn't blink – as if he knew that already. "Leaving how many?"

"There's myself…"

"And?"

_Simon and River never went outside._ "… the Captain."

"That's it?"

"It is."

The man nodded, accepting his answer. "Put your hands up, all the way," he said, "and turn around."

"This isn't necessary, son," Book said.

"Lăo hàn, I know my father well, and you aren't him. What isn't necessary is the hole I'll put in you if you don't turn around. Right now."

It was Book's turn to nod acceptance. The man looked like nothing would please him more than to make use of his gun. Book turned and waited, and wasn't surprised to feel a hard blow to the back of his head, followed by darkness.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal's face relaxed into a smile. "It's uh… real nice to meet you, Ray, Hank." He spoke slowly, but his mind was racing. River and Simon had stepped through the hatch and were hustling up the stairs behind it. They'd need about fifteen seconds to reach the Shepherd, call it a minute to get into Jayne's bunk for firearms, and a half minute to get back out here. Mal needed to stall.

"Now, what exactly you needin' a ship for?" he asked.

"Well," Ray replied in his own slow drawl, "that is a mite complicated." He glanced up around the catwalks as he stepped into the bay, then back at Mal.

"Try me out," Mal offered. "I'm real good at complicated. Got years of experience."

"I got an errand to run," the man said. "Some real valuable cargo to pick up."

The two men were fully in the bay now. Ray dropped his head and cut his eyes toward Hank, not trying especially hard to hide the signal that passed between them. They started spreading apart, Hank to Mal's left, Ray to his right. The longer Mal waited, the harder it'd be to hit them both.

Mal nodded, keeping his face easy and his voice light. "This _is_ a cargo transport. I can see how you'd be interested in her for that."

"I'll want to do some travelin'," Ray said. "Got a long trip in mind."

"Could be negotiated."

"Could it?"

"I'm a reasonable man. Ask anyone that knows me." Mal flashed his most honest smile.

Ray's face twisted; he looked like he wanted to grin in return, but his dried-up skin would crack to pieces if he did. "All right, try this on for reasonable. What I need is full run of your ship, for as long as I like."

Mal exhaled heavily. "Well, now, that is a lot to ask."

"I ain't _askin'_, cause I don't mean to be payin'." Ray's eyes narrowed.

_Here we go,_ Mal thought. He glanced to his right. The hovercraft's roof, which Kaylee had pinned against the stairway, wasn't real solid, but it would provide some cover. He took a few slow steps back, so he'd have an open lane to get behind it and the stairs.

"Uh-huh," he said aloud. "That is a temptin' offer. Except I got a better one. How 'bout you go out the way you came." His voice finally turned serious. "By which I mean, still breathin'." Mal's eyes were fixed on Ray but his attention was all on the brooding Hank and the hand clenching near that shiny gun. _Those morons upstairs better be gettin' a move on…_

Ray sighed and shook his head. "This don't have to go bad for you and yours." He managed a small smirk as he tried out a name. "Smith."

_Smith? Āi yā – that's what I told the guy in town… Will…_

Mal realized he'd made his second mistake of the day, and it was as bad as his first. He wasn't the only one stalling here. Ray had looked up at the catwalks once, and that was it. He wasn't concerned about anyone getting the drop on him from above, and he had at least one partner who hadn't walked in the front door with him.

_The gorram hatch, they're comin' in the hatch. _

Mal drew his gun and fired as he dove to his right.

.*. .*. .*.

"No, Simon, it's not safe! Wēi dài!" River said in a fierce whisper as she followed Simon up the stairs from the cargo bay.

"We have to get to Book," Simon whispered back, pulling River around the corner. "We can help the Captain."

"They're twisted!" River insisted, her voice rising a little. "Bad! Really bad – coming down from the top just like the other bad one did!"

"Shhh – I know they're bad. That's why we have to help, all right?" Simon kept one hand on her wrist, pulling her along behind him. He reached the hatch to the dining room and saw the Shepherd down on the floor with his arms around the bolted down leg of the table, hands bound at the wrist. He wasn't moving, and there was blood on the back of his neck.

"Book!" Simon called aloud. He ignored River's whispered warnings as his instincts as a healer took over; he released her wrist and ran to Book's side. A nasty bump was already rising on the back of the preacher's head. Simon grabbed a towel from the counter to staunch the bleeding, then turned back toward the hatch he'd just come through. River hadn't followed him.

Simon never heard the man coming out of the galley; his doctor's senses weren't trained to listen for soft footsteps. But he turned around at the last second, and had just enough time to rue his lack of caution before the butt of a gun connected to the side of his head.

.*. .*. .*.

The only shot Mal got off before he hit the deck buried itself between Hank's eyes, knocking the man on his back with his fancy gun clenched in his hand.

Mal landed on his right shoulder and rolled behind the stairway and the metal sheet. A few shots pierced the battered steel, then the rest glanced off it. Ray kept shooting at the part of the sheet near the center of the bay, not realizing that Mal had kept rolling to the far end. Mal had the advantage for a few seconds, at least.

He stretched out on his side and caught a glimpse of Ray through a gap in the bottom of the hovercraft's roof. Mal started to take aim, but before he could line Ray up a bullet hit off the deck just a foot from his head. It hadn't come from Ray.

Mal looked toward the ramp – there was a new shadow there, a small figure moving forward hesitantly. Another bullet pinged off the deck as Mal swung his gun around. He squeezed off a quick shot and the shadowy figure went down.

When Mal checked the gap in the steel sheet again, Ray was gone. Mal had to choke down a curse; he'd lost his advantage. Ray had heard his shot and knew where he was, but now Mal didn't know a gorram thing.

A hush fell over the cargo bay as the echoes of the gunfire faded. Mal opened his mouth to silence his heavy breathing and glanced up to check the catwalks. There was no one up there yet, but most like it was only a matter of time. He had no option but to finish Ray off as quick as he could, then he could go hunting up top. He carefully rose to his knees, trying to catch any sound of movement over the rush of blood in his ears.

He heard one soft scrape of boot against metal on the far side of the bay, and that was enough. Mal bent his left leg in front of him, planting his foot and coiling himself to dive to the right and take his chances at getting a clean shot off, but just then a loud voice boomed out from high up and behind him.

"Look what I found!"

Mal spun onto his back to aim at the voice; it was Will, the urban cowboy all done up in black, and he was holding his pistol to Simon's head. The doctor looked dazed and blood dripped down the side of his face. They were almost directly above Mal; there was no way he'd get a bullet through the metal grating of the catwalk.

This time Mal did swear out loud, then he rolled back to his knees. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his left hand; every muscle in his body was screaming at him to _move_, to take these men down, but he was humped and he knew it.

"Could'a moved a bit faster Will," he heard Ray reply. "Hank's dead."

"I found an unexpected guest here; I had to take the time to make sure he was the only one."

"The old man?" Ray asked.

"Down and out."

Ray directed his voice at Mal. "You still mean to make a stand of this, Smith?"

Mal dropped his hand from his face; it was shaking from adrenaline and the effort of restraint. He held his gun up first, letting it hang upside down from a thumb looped through the trigger guard. Slowly he stood up, still breathing heavily.

"Come on out where I can see ya," Ray said, his aim steady on Mal.

Mal stepped around the stairway. He dropped his gun to the deck before he could be told to do it; he did hate being ordered around. Especially on his own ship.

"You got anybody else on board?" Ray asked.

"Not a soul," Mal replied steadily.

Ray motioned for Mal to move away from the gun. Mal did, and he heard Simon being manhandled down the stairs beside him.

"Hey, Will," Mal called out. "How are ya?"

"I'm doing all right," Will replied.

"Price of hirin' my ship just came down."

Will's laugh was high pitched and loose. "I bet it did."

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Will pushed Simon to the deck. Simon landed awkwardly on his side; his hands were bound behind his back. Mal watched as Will holstered his pistol and hung his hat on the corner of the bullet-riddled hovercraft roof. Then he picked up Mal's gun, looking at it like it was a big dead cockroach.

"You actually hit anything with this?" Will asked.

Mal grinned and tipped his head toward the prone figure across the bay. "How 'bout you ask your friend Hank there."

Will walked to Mal, careful to stand to the side so Ray still had him covered.

"Yú bèn de Browncoat, still talking smart," Will said with an amazed shake of his head. "You fools never do seem to get it."

Mal saw the blow coming, but couldn't do much about it, not with a gun on him and Simon laying on the deck all trussed up and bleeding. Will struck him backhand across the face. The force of it surprised Mal; he was knocked to his hands and knees, his vision blurred. He held a hand up to the right side of his face, which was feeling oddly numb, and realized that he'd just gotten pistol-whipped with his own gorram gun.

"Mal!" Simon called out, sounding far away.

Stunned, Mal pulled his hand away from his face. His eyes came partly into focus on a drizzle of blood coming out of his mouth to pool in his palm.

"Ow," he said roughly, but he found himself smiling as he tried to look up at Will. "Thought the war was over."

"Yeah, it is. You lost. Again." Will replied. A hard kick caught Mal's side, knocking him onto his back.

"Stop it!" Simon was yelling. "There's no need for that!"

"Shut up," Ray snapped at Simon, but he caught Will's arm and pulled him back before he could land another kick. "I got no time for this. Just tie him up."

Mal was too addled to struggle when Will tied his wrists together, thankfully in front of his body. _Behind is hard on the shoulders,_ he thought distantly, _and you can't scratch your dāng._ He chuckled a little at the thought.

Then he was being dragged across the deck and propped against a railing. As cords tightened around his body and arms, he began to suspect that this shouldn't be so funny. Could be, it wasn't really funny at all.

Then he remembered River – Will had said nothing about her.

_If you're hearin' me girl, stay hid where you are. Don't be doin' nothin' stupid. Ain't play time out here._

.*. .*. .*.

River twisted a hand in her hair, trying to pull out the pain that throbbed in her head. Pain from Book, pain from Simon, pain from Mal. Too much hitting.

"Not moving. Staying hid. No playing," she whispered.

She was folded into a back corner of the engine room, high off the deck. One leg stuck out stiffly to brace herself against the bulkhead; the rest of her body was curled into a ball behind a diagonal support.

As painful as it was, she tried her best to stay with the people she knew. The minds of the others, the strangers, made a ruckus in her head that was worse than what her crew was feeling.

"Bad. Fēng. Hurts," she said quietly, both hands in her hair now. "Please don't show me, don't want to know."

She couldn't shut it off, couldn't get free. But Simon had given her a shot, back when she was on the catwalk, clutching the railing so he couldn't take her outside. It only she been able to sort it out then, to make them all stay in and keep the ship safe…

No energy to waste on being sorry. She had to hold together, wait. The medicine from the shot would quiet the noise. She could feel it already, just a little. Not nearly enough yet. The bad people were still trying to swallow her up, make her disappear.

She pulled her left hand out of her hair and punched the steel beam, and the pain pulled her away from those dark minds. She hit the beam again and again. Hard enough to hurt, not enough to damage – she'd need her hands.

Because, despite what the captain was telling her, she knew that once she got control she'd be doing more than staying hidden. She wasn't about to let anyone treat her family like that.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
bèn de hún dàn: stupid bastard  
niú shĭ: cow shit  
lái bīn: visitor  
lăo hàn: old man  
āi yā: damn  
wēi dài: grave danger  
yú bèn de: stupid  
dāng: crotch  
fēng: insane

* * *

**Chapter 8.**

Mal's nerves had rubbed off on Zoë, and her husband's creative driving skills didn't serve to calm her any. They roared up the dry riverbed, following the directions that Kaylee's mysterious young acquaintance had supplied. After only five minutes they saw what looked to be a bunch of old wooden planks nailed together and leaning against a low cliff face off to the right.

Wash powered the mule over the river bank and across what might of have been a pleasant meadow if the world still had grass. They slid to a stop about ten meters from the cliff. Zoë drew her carbine and shushed everyone as she climbed out of the hovercraft. This sure as hell didn't look like a place to find tech, she thought. It looked more like a place for an ambush.

She left Jayne and Wash near the transport, Jayne holding Vera at the ready, and walked to the wooden wall on the cliff face with Kaylee a few paces behind. There was a rough door with a knocker on a metal plate in the middle of the wall; Zoë lifted the knocker and banged it three times, making a hollow booming sound.

It was at least a full minute before a little shutter in the door opened. It was just above Zoë's belly button, so she had to lean down to speak through it.

"We're looking for Xiaojun, heard there's tech for sale. We need a – "

A sharp voice cut her off. "Who send you? Who tell you I am here?"

Zoë looked to Kaylee, who answered hesitantly. "A boy, um… teenager. He didn't say his name. Chinese lookin'. Longish hair, green eyes – "

The flap dropped shut, then Kaylee and Zoë had to step back as the door swung open.

A petite Chinese woman stepped out. She was wearing a dark red jumpsuit covered in stains, and her hair frayed out of a loose bun, making a frizzy halo around her crinkly face. She had a big smile and her arms were extended wide, showing grease-stained hands.

"New people! Friends of Jase! Gĕ kuài lè de jìnzhăn! Good new people! Never lái bīn these days, no one come. All day I work, but no new people, no new toys, nothing at all since Zhenya die."

Kaylee threw a look of delighted surprise at Zoë when the old woman hugged her. Xiaojun wasn't at all bothered by the carbine in Zoë's hand; she turned and Zoë had to bend forward awkwardly to receive a hug that would not be refused. Wash and Jayne were next; the woman chattered all the way to the hovercraft.

"So good of you to come out to see me on such a day. Hàn! Not good day to drive so far in hovercraft. Hmm – old model Libra ten? Have not seen one of those in some time. Needs work, I see. No roof? Must be hot then – shŭ tiān. Not so good for skin. You should be careful, shèn zhòng! Won't always be nián qīng rén! Have skin like mine someday!"

She hugged a smiling Wash, who tried to get a word in and failed. "Huăn!" she said, pinching his cheek fondly before turning to Jayne. She didn't hesitate to reach up and squeeze his bicep, then looked over to Zoë and Kaylee to comment "Nán zĭ qì!" and Jayne straightened with pride. She turned back to him. "Too bad you not come here twenty years ago, when my girls home still. They would be zhōng qíng!" She exaggerated fanning herself before she leaned forward to hug his waist. When she did, her smile faded for just a second while her nose crinkled. "Hmm, chòu." She leaned back to look him up and down, then turned away. "No matter. Come inside, come inside. Time for tea, and guō tiē fresh cooked this morning, still many stores from Before. Nice and cool inside, liáng kuai, no hot sun."

She started back toward the doorway, muttering continuously. Jayne looked at the hovercraft, then at Zoë. She held a hand up, motioning for him to stay, and turned to follow Xiaojun.

The old lady stopped at the door and looked back at the men. "No need to guard craft. No one here. All alone. Qù. See? Kilometers around, no one at all. Come in, come in. No use keeping ladies waiting. Good boys come inside now."

Zoë managed to cut into the woman's stream of verbosity. "The big manly man Jayne is afraid of the dark. He'd be much happier waiting outside."

Xiaojun gave Jayne a look and waved a hand at him. "Okay! No matter. Cute one come inside, have tea with ladies." Jayne reclined in the hovercraft like he'd rather stay anyway, but at a nod from Zoë Wash trotted over to follow the three women through the dark doorway.

"Solar panels," Xiaojun explained proudly. They took a few uneven steps down into a cavern which had been converted to a smartly finished living space. Electric lamps covered in red tassels hung from a smooth ceiling of dry stone. "Up above, outside, lots of sun on panels, always lots of power. Jiāo yáng, all the time. No rain anymore. Not to worry – have well inside, way back in cave, goes deep, lots of water, chōu shuĭ jī work good. Use all you want. Powder room there. Cè suŏ. Need to go? No? No matter. Okay, sit here. I make tea. So good to have new people. Huì kè, been so long. I miss! Only toys, same old toys I tinker with, day in, day out. Almost as old as me, some of them! No one to talk to. Just lăo tào."

Ten minutes later, Zoë and Wash were settled on high-backed chairs at a teak table, sipping fragrant tea and snacking on dumplings, watching Xiaojun lead Kaylee through a large natural cavern that extended back into the hillside. The floor was leveled out and more than half full of densely packed shelves. The open half of the big cavern held what appeared to be Xiaojun's 'old toys,' although no one asked about them. They hoped to get back to _Serenity_ before day's end, and the old lady did have a talent for talking.

Wash leaned over to Zoë. "Good thing Mal didn't come. This would be _hell_ for him."

.*. .*. .*.

It completely caught Ginger by surprise when the Browncoat dove out of her sights. She tried to follow him and take him out, squeezing off two shots that did nothing but tear holes in whatever he was hiding behind.

She watched while Ray circled around to her right, shooting across the bay, but the Browncoat didn't come into view again. Jase did - the little idiot stepped up onto the ramp, partly blocking her view. He didn't last long, just went right down on his back and stayed there.

Shortly after, the shooting stopped.

Ginger decided she wasn't going to wait to be fetched. She gathered her jacket and bag and took a roundabout way down the hill, just in case the bullets starting flying again. It took her a few minutes to reach the ship, and when she did she paused at the side of the entrance until she heard Ray's voice.

"Will, when you're done with the browncoat, go out n'tell Ginger to get Jase. I want out'a here before them others return."

"Ray, it's me!" she called out; it never was wise to sneak up on a fella right after gunplay.

"Ginger? What the hell are you doin' here?" Ray called back. "I want you watchin' for that shuttle!"

"You looked to be bout done," she answered, unperturbed by his disapproval.

She crouched next to Jase. The men on the ship couldn't see the boy on account of the slope of the ramp, and clearly didn't even know he was there. He lay half in the dust, the left shoulder of his shirt soaked in blood. The wound was high enough on his chest to have missed anything important, but he was bleeding like he had a talent for it. A gunshot wound wasn't something likely to get fixed out here. Ginger snickered. Stupid kid, stepping in the way and getting himself killed. All hell was gonna break loose when Ray saw this.

Still, he wasn't dead yet and she couldn't leave him on the ramp, nor could she lift him and hold her gun at the same time. She grabbed his ankle and dragged him into the ship, leaving a wet red smear on the plating.

"Forget about our transport, Ray, let's just go," she said.

She dropped the boy's leg as soon as she had him past the inner airlock door, then looked around the hold, getting her bearings. Will was just about done tying the captain, bloody-faced and dazed, to the railing of a staircase across the way. Another man, young and clean cut with short black hair, was kneeling on the deck nearby with his hands bound behind him. Quite the pretty boy. He looked weak and completely outdone, his mouth hanging open in shock and blood dripping down his cheek.

Then she noticed Hank, lying on his back to her right, a single thin line of red coming out of a hole in his forehead, his gun clenched in his dead hand and an expression of utter surprise on his face.

Two down then; it'd gone sloppier than she figured.

In the few seconds she'd been taking in the scene, Ray had crossed the bay and knelt beside Jase. Ginger turned back to see Ray's face turn ashen as he pulled the boy's shirt back from the wound.

"Sorry, Ray," Jase muttered faintly. "`m just stupid."

Ginger saw the fury in Ray's eyes and thought he was about to finish the kid off right there, but it turned out it wasn't Jase he was mad at. He stood and stalked across the bay toward the captain.

"You shot him," Ray said, and his normally moderate voice shook with rage.

"He shot at me first!" the browncoat replied with a hint of a whine, clearly not getting that it wasn't the best time for backtalk. He managed to pull his head aside enough to avoid the brunt of Ray's first punch, but Ray hit him again, and kept on until the captain was slumped over, held up only by the cords around his chest.

"Ray!" Ginger called out in warning when she saw the other man getting to his feet. Ray stopped hitting, and turned to shove the young man back to the deck. Then he just stood there, panting and clenching his fists like he wasn't sure what to do.

Will paid no attention to Ray's outburst. He grabbed Hank and dragged him out the door, leaving him in the dust for the crows. When he came back in he went to the control panel, and the doors on the airlock started motoring shut.

Ginger had nothing else to do, so she crouched next to the boy. Couldn't hurt to try.

"I got him," Ray said, suddenly beside her and pushing her away. "Will," he asked, "this ship got anything for doctorin'?"

"The infirmary's back that way," Will replied, pointing to the hatch in the back of the bay.

Ray picked Jase up, easily and with more care than she'd ever have expected from the man. "Get us movin'," he called to Will as he walked toward the back hatch, though the order wasn't necessary. Will was already climbing the fore stairway.

"Ginger," Ray said over his shoulder, "tie this other fella up and then you go over every bit of this ship. Make sure there ain't no one else."

Ginger started toward the young man sprawled on the deck, but he climbed to his feet and spoke up before she could reach him.

"I'm a doctor," he said, suddenly all calm and cool as ice. "I can help."

Ray stopped. "A doctor?"

"Yes. A trauma surgeon. I've seen a lot of gunshot wounds."

"He does look like one, Ray," Ginger said, eying the man's fancy shoes and tailored clothes. "He sure don't belong out here."

"What's your name, boy?" Ray asked.

"Simon."

"Simon, if you're tryin' to play me you'll die in an ugly way, you understand?" Ray didn't wait for an answer; he just nodded his head toward the infirmary. "Go."

The doctor glanced once at the unconscious captain, then led Ray out. Ginger slung her rifle over her shoulder, drew her pistol, and started her search.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon flexed his fingers to get the feeling back, rubbing at the white and red marks on his wrists. The cords had been tight enough to cut off circulation. Unnecessarily tight. Simon didn't know the man well enough to say for sure, but he suspected that Will was a bit of a sadist. And he was out there, wandering the ship…

_Mèi mei, don't come out. Don't try anything. Don't you dare._

He bent over the barely conscious boy on the exam table. The bullet had passed clean through without hitting his lungs; the wound shouldn't be difficult to fix. The blood loss was the real problem. And the boy - well, teen - was thin. It appeared that he hadn't been in the best of health to begin with.

Simon opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors, but he froze when he heard a gun charge up. He'd almost forgotten Ray. The man stood in the hatch watching, and was now pointing a pistol at him.

"I need to cut his shirt back," Simon explained, surprised at the coolness of his own voice. Ray nodded and lowered the gun, but his eyes still held an edge of the rage that had erupted in the cargo bay. It briefly occurred to Simon that his patient, though young, might be just as violent and unstable as the others. It would be so easy to move slowly, or to make a mistake. They'd never know…

But, even while he was thinking this, Simon was working with his usual careful urgency, wrapping gauze tightly around the boy's shoulder to staunch the bleeding. He had denied treatment to a patient once. Not for more than a minute, but a vital minute. It'd been a girl he'd barely known, one anonymous face among the hundreds he'd encountered in his struggle to free River. But that girl had turned out to be Kaylee.

Not for the first time, Simon felt a surge of gratitude that she'd lived, and guilt that he'd put her in such danger, going so far as to use her life as a bargaining chip. If she hadn't made it, he'd never even have known what was lost.

And now, it was suddenly possible that he'd never see Kaylee again. The thought made his stomach twist.

He tried to push his feelings aside and focus on placing an IV in the boy's arm. There was no time for regret or fear, or even for the pounding in the side of his head and the blood drying on his face. He was a doctor; he had his job to do.

_Simon Tam fixes hurt people; raspberry bushes make raspberries; Zoë and Jayne come to the rescue; River stays hidden and quiet. That is how it is. Do you hear me?_

.*. .*. .*.

"So much went wrong," River whispered to herself."Everything ruined."

She was only vaguely aware that she was speaking, and would have stopped herself if she could. But the things that were crawling around in her head had to be let out somehow. It was getting better; the injection Simon had given her was working. The voices were coming from a distance now, instead of shouting inside her skull.

She held herself still in the shadows of the engine room's ceiling, eyes closed as she tried to listen and separate the tangled voices. When River had worked with Kaylee on the hovercraft, she'd been getting it, controlling it, but these new minds were overwhelming. Hatred, bitterness, and despair masked reason, and she couldn't make sense of it. So many walls in their minds holding back ugly things, not enough walls of her own to keep them out.

_Walls – build walls. Keep out the strangers. Let in the ones I know. _

Not easy to separate. The good ones didn't feel like they usually did; they were all in pain, all afraid. The captain was the easiest to find; he often was. He was walking in dark places, places she'd visited with him before, but she couldn't help him now. She had to leave him to make his way on his own.

Simon was busy. The cool logic of his thoughts settled over her with soothing familiarity. She shut everything out but him, and felt herself relax. His pain and fear were there, but carefully held at bay. His worry about her kept trying to take over, and she wished she could let him know she was okay. Not about to do anything stupid.

But she couldn't go near Simon to tell him. One of the dark ones was with him, watching close. Ray. That was the man's name: Ray.

Simon's medicine was working. It was definitely calmer inside now, quieter. The noisy mess was far enough away for her to untangle it, thought by thought. Her brother had done his job, and now it was time to do hers. She had to let the bad minds in, had to be open to them if she wanted to learn. But only one at time. Carefully, River looked into Ray.

His thoughts were taut, like a rope holding too much weight. There was a constant hum in his background, made of countless tiny pings as little bits of himself gave way to an unending strain. He was still vibrating from the big piece that had snapped when he saw the boy covered in blood. Ray needed Simon to fix Jase; he didn't even know how much he needed that. Under Ray's violent anger was hurt. Hurt and guilt and failure and, way in deep, the bitterness of betrayal.

River shuddered and pulled herself away from him. The things inside Ray might break her if she looked too close. She didn't have the strength, not right now.

She was drawn to the feverish mind of the boy whom Mal had shot. He was in a place with a blue sky adorned with an arc of sparkling color, and bright autumn trees swayed in the breeze. River wanted to go there with him. There was a sweet voice singing, and a rich smell that made her mouth water.

She tore herself away. _No time. Work to do._

Two other strange minds wandered the ship; instinctively she shied away from one of them, from the man. The other was a woman. She was checking the panels in the cargo bay, looking for finger holds, panels that moved. She'd already found Mal's favorite hidey nook by the stairs. Her mind was focused on her job, as it always was. Isolated. Closed off to her own feelings. For her, life was a series of tasks to be mastered. People in Ginger's world existed as target or ally or, in a few instances, toys to be used when needed. Ginger had no other use for human beings. She didn't see what lay deep inside herself, but River did. River saw the starvation for things Ginger had never had, how it eroded the woman inside. River hugged herself against the aching loneliness, trying to push away from it.

A steady chanting rose through the hunger, a deep voice like dark honey that she wanted to sink into until she disappeared.

_Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;  
__Where there is hatred, let me sow love;  
__Where there is injury, pardon…_

The calm voice blocked out the fear, hatred, and pain of the others, and she clung to it.

_Where there is doubt, faith;  
__Where there is despair, hope…_

Her eyes snapped open when the thoughts grew stronger. He was coming closer – no, he was waking up. He was hurt, but he was coming back to himself without rage or bitterness to cloud him. Not even fear.

_Where there is darkness, light;  
__And where there is sadness, joy._

This mind had shadows within, but they weren't held back by impenetrable walls. He knew of the darkness, and he'd made peace with it. He was able to see with eyes unobscured; he would help her figure out what to do.

She uncoiled herself, swung down from the beam, and landed lightly on the deck. Down the corridor, she could see the Book lying under the table, not moving yet. Silently, she jogged down the hall and crawled under the table next to him.

"Shepherd," she whispered, poking lightly at this shoulder. "Preacher man, wake up."

He stirred. She waited until he opened his eyes and pulled himself to sitting. It was awkward with his arms wrapped around the table leg and his hands bound. "River?" he said roughly.

"Sssh! They have the ship."

He focused on her, and answered in a whisper. "Who?"

River held up four fingers, and pointed to each in turn. "Ray, Jase, Ginger,… Will."

Book lifted his bound hands and leaned forward so he could rub his forehead, then he nodded and accepted what she told him, just as she knew he would.

"Where is the captain?" he asked.

"Beat up. Tied up. Cargo bay. Simon is fixing Jase."

"Jase?"

"Captain shot him."

Book started to reply, but River hushed him and ran to scurry up a pipe next to the fore hatch. A few seconds later, a woman with a rifle slung over her shoulder came through, passing right below River. She ignored Book, just held a pistol aimed at the floor while she glanced into the lounge, galley, and pantry. Her eyes lingered on the cabinets, but she seemed to dismiss them as too small to hold a person. After a moment, she continued on through the aft hatch, checked the engine room, then disappeared into the side corridor leading down to the passenger dorms.

River dropped to the deck and crouched next to the table again. "No one ever looks up," she told Book with a shake of her head.

"Do they know about you?" he asked.

"No. River stays hidden. That's how it is. Simon said so. The captain did too, before he got lost."

Book leaned aginst the table leg so he could rub his face again; he was struggling to think clearly. "That was Ginger?"

"Yes."

"Where are the others?"

River ticked off her fingers again. "Ray and Jase are in the infirmary with Simon. Will is on the bridge, looking, remembering…" She lost track of what she saying as the weight of an angry mind pulled her attention away. She looked down the corridor toward the bridge, her face slack and her hands stilled with her third finger pulled back.

She hadn't wanted to let Will in; his thoughts were freezing cold. But she had to. She needed to know.

A few words leaked out her mouth as she listened:

_Not hard to fly – power, yaw, pitch… gorramn browncoats, should be done with them by now… warm up engines first should have killed him port stabilizers, starboard should have shot that worthless piece of shĭ in the head… _

"River, River!" Book's harsh whisper pulled her back from the darkness.

She stared at Book wide-eyed, still listening. "Hates Mal. Wants to hurt him. Kill him."

"Why?" Book asked.

"Wants things his way," she replied. She felt Will's malice take over and express itself in her face and the force behind her whisper, but she let it go. It helped her hear. "Doesn't like people who don't do as he says. Likes to kill. Not against rules to kill browncoats. No reason not to kill them. Will likes to kill. Will. Kill. You see?"

She tilted her head as she stared at Book; her eyes were unfocused but she sensed him drawing back away from her.

"But he hasn't killed Mal?" Book asked.

"No. Might need the help. To fly. Need to fly." Suddenly, River knew she had her answer. She shook off the contact and smiled, relieved to have her mind and her face to herself again.

"That's it!" she whispered. "Have to make sure they need him. Xiè xie! Sorry – can't untie – not now."

She jumped to her feet and continued to mutter as she sped toward the engine room. "Can't just hide, Simon. Got work to do. My job. Only mine. Have to do it. No one else."

"River – " Book called in a loud whisper, but she didn't stop. She had business to take care of.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
gĕ kuài lè de jìnzhăn: happy development  
lái bīn: guest  
hàn: hot  
shŭ tiān: hot day  
shèn zhòng: careful  
nián qīng rén: young people  
huăn: cute  
nán zĭ qì: manly  
zhōng qíng: madly in love  
chòu: stench  
guō tiē: fried dumpling  
liáng kuai: pleasantly cool  
qù: live alone; quiet  
jiāo yáng: blazing sun  
chōu shuĭ jī: water pump  
cè suŏ: toilet  
huì kè: receive a visitor  
lăo tào: old things  
mèi mei: little sister  
shĭ: shit  
xiè xie: thank you

* * *

Chapter 9.

Zoë took a big bite from a lumpy dumpling, washing it down with tea before she replied to Wash's comment. "Yeah, I xpect Mal'd be a mite annoyed if he were here. He never did like chatter." She glanced into the depths of the cavern, where Kaylee's head and shoulders followed the top of Xiaojun's bun through the gadget-covered shelves. The old woman's voice echoed off the stone walls; she hardly took a break to breathe.

"I think she's cute," Wash answered. "A little excess talk doesn't bother me." He stuffed the rest of his own dumpling into his mouth.

Zoë gave him a sidelong glance. "Except maybe as competition?"

"Not that's low," he replied with a hurt expression showing around his full cheeks. He took a gulp of tea to clear his mouth a little. "I just meant that the old lady's not so scary – and so much for Mal's butterflies."

"I guess," Zoë mumbled. She looked back into the cavern. Despite the unexpectedly pleasant situation she found herself in, she wasn't feeling quite at ease.

Wash went on speaking. "I'm telling you, the captain's been a little strange lately. Worrying too much. About _everything._ We need to get him a day at a spa or something. Hot stone massage. You'd think you could get one of those here – all they have is heat and stones."

"He ought'a fret less when he hears bout this." Zoë wiped her fingers on a red cloth napkin and pulled a comm from her pocket. "Captain. Captain, you there?"

She was surprised when Mal didn't answer immediately. He'd been so worried when they left that she expected him to be hovering right on top of a console. Before she could say anything else, Wash snatched the comm from her hand.

"Mal, you have to meet this lady," he said. "She's like my Aunt Zelda."

"Aunt Zelda?" Zoë asked. "You have an Aunt Zelda?"

"By marriage only, not a blood relation. No one in my family actually talks that much."

Zoe gave him a look of doubt as she made a grab for the comm. "You're adopted?"

Wash leaned away from her, holding the comm behind him. "Not at all – you just haven't met the clan. We're terse, you know. Especially in stressful situations – just ask Mal. It's called the Washburn Cool Factor. We keep our calm, and…"

Zoë found the right spot on the front of his shirt to grab between finger and thumb and tweak.

"Ow!" Wash squeaked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You fight dirty, zhēng níng woman! That's not fair!"

Zoë grabbed the comm back, giving her husband a look of victory before she spoke into it again. "Sir? You hear me?"

"The rock must be fouling up the signal," Wash said, still holding his chest with one arm and pointing at the ceiling with the other. "You should go outside – where you can't abuse me anymore."

"Don't underestimate me, dear," Zoë said with a smirk. She stood up, but paused to glance back into the cavern one more time. Xiaojun stood in a gap in the shelves, talking nonstop as she waved one hand around a complicated device that she held in the other. Kaylee listened with her mouth open in rapt fascination.

"When you're recovered, sweetie, see if you can get Kaylee to hurry it up." Zoë headed for the door.

.*. .*. .*.

_Captain. Captain, you there?_

Zoë's electronic voice echoed through the cargo bay. The words were accompanied by a buzz of static that cut off sharply.

Mal had set the comm to sound in the bay, not wanting to miss out on any word from Zoë or the others. He hadn't foreseen the turn of events which now had him bound to the railing of a stairway. He hadn't considered that he might be barely conscious when Zoë called.

He wasn't having a good day.

_Mal, you have to meet this lady._ The fuzzy voice was Wash's now. _She's like my aunt Zelda._

Mal moved his head a little in the following silence.

_Sir? You hear me?_

"Zoë?" he whispered, but there was no answer. He groaned; his face was throbbing. He was vaguely aware that he couldn't move his arms. Things certainly weren't right. Trouble. He tried to remember the exact nature of the trouble.

A minute later, Zoë's voice came again, without static this time. _Captain, you hear me?_

He remembered something about Zoë. "Go away," he whispered.

_Sir, do you read?_

"I tol' em where you are. You and Wash and… and the li'l one. You gotta go. Alliance – " The little one? Were Zoë and Wash having a baby? He vaguely remembered something about that, but it didn't seem right…

There was longish pause, then Jayne spoke. _Uh, Cap'n?_

"Jayne," Mal replied softly. Hearing Jayne's voice gave him a sinking feeling, but he couldn't remember why.

_What'cha doin', Mal? River got your tongue?_ A bit of Jayne's rough laugh came through before the comm cut off.

Jayne's laughin' at me, Mal thought, and then he remembered more: Jayne had done something bad. Real bad. He'd turned on Mal. Again. Gave him away to the Feds, when Kaylee needed help… And now that hún dàn was laughing at him.

Mal woke up enough to lift his head. "Say it to my face, Jayne. Say it…"

Zoë cut him off. _Sir, you're makin' me worry._

"Zoë." Mal's eyes focused and he realized he was in the cargo bay. No one else was around, and he was bound. Tied up on his own gorram ship. And his head and face really hurt. "Zoë?" he said, louder.

But no one answered. His eyes drifted shut and his head hung limp again.

.*. .*. .*.

Jayne was reclining in the hovercraft when Zoë stepped out into the sun. His t-shirt was off and laying over his face; his arms were stretched wide to expose his bare chest to as many rays as possible.

"You done yet?" he asked without moving, his voice muffled by the fabric.

"I'm so glad I left you on watch," Zoë said dryly.

"You heard the old lady. Ain't no one out here."

Zoë ignored him, just spoke into her comm. "Captain, you hear me?" She waited a few seconds, then tried again. "Sir, do you read?"

After a pause, she gave up and turned to Jayne. "I think mine ain't workin'. Try yours."

Jayne heaved an impatient sigh, then pushed the shirt off his face and leaned to the side to grab his comm. "Uh, Cap'n?" he said into it. Then he grinned. "What'cha doin', Mal? River got your tongue?" He chuckled at that.

Zoë walked over to the craft and glared at him as she grabbed the comm out of his hand.

"Sir, you're makin' me worry."

She waited a bit, then shook her head and handed Jayne his comm back. "It ain't these," she said. "There's somethin' wrong. We're goin'. Now."

Jayne reluctantly put his shirt back on and waited in the hovercraft while Zoë disappeared into the cavern. She returned seconds later, dragging Kaylee by the arm. Wash was right behind them, and Xiaojun hustled out last, actively voicing her distress at their sudden departure. Zoë ignored her as they all loaded into the mule.

"Hang on!" Wash warned, then he put the hammer down. The engine of the craft surged as it flew down the slope, cleared the river bank, and swerved to head downstream.

"But what's goin' on?" Kaylee yelled over the engine and the wind that whistled by them. "I ain't got the servo yet! Cap'n'll be mad if – "

"Tāmā de húndàn!" Wash shouted, and he pulled to a stop so abrupt that Jayne had to grab Kaylee to keep her from flying over the nose of the mule.

_Serenity_ was rising over the horizon directly in front of them. Jayne added a few choice swear words of his own, then Kaylee cried out when the ship suddenly lurched to the side and lost half her altitude.

"What the dìyù is he doing?" Wash asked. The ship recovered, and powered its unsteady way back up into the blue before falling again, this time tilting back and sliding away from them.

"Mal ain't at the helm," Zoë said with cool certainty.

"Then who?" Jayne demanded. "He ain't lettin' River fly, is he, cause that's just – "

"That ain't any of ours, Jayne," Zoë told him, never taking her eyes off the sky.

.*. .*. .*.

It had been a while since Will had flown one of these birds, but he didn't think it'd be hard. It wasn't complicated, and all he had to do was get out of atmo. The tricky stuff would come in orbit, but he was sure he'd have it down by then. He fired up the engine, then sat back to give her a little warm-up time; a ship this old needed it. He smiled smugly. He sure knew his stuff.

Which made him wonder why that gorram browncoat was still breathing. They didn't need him, and he was a danger. Will knew the type; that húnqiú would keep fighting long after he should curl up and die. You'd think losing a war would teach a man respect for his betters, but there were a few of those Independents who seemed to have learned nothing but the art of stubbornness. A man who'd still wear that damn coat seven years after the fact was a man who needed to be taught a few things. Will meant to see to it before this jaunt was over – the freedom to take such lessons into his own hands was one of his favorite things about working out in the Black.

He leaned over the controls again, flipped a few switches, and lifted her off the ground. Too easy, just too gorram easy, he thought with a satisfied smile. Easy the way it should be.

It was just then that things got a little more challenging.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon focused on his patient, ignoring the weighty stare of the gunslinger standing in the infirmary's hatch. He set an IV in the boy's right arm: saline, antibiotics, and a dose of painkillers. The last would ease the boy and, more importantly, keep him down. Three hijackers loose on the ship were enough.

He turned to a drawer of surgical tools; he had to get into the wound to clean it and stitch whatever needed it. But suddenly the ship lurched, the turbulence of her flight going beyond what the artificial grav could correct for. Simon stumbled back to the bed and raised metal rails on either side to hold his patient in place.

"What the hell is goin' on?" a gruff voice asked. Simon looked over at Ray, who was holding the handle on the open hatch with one hand and keeping the pistol in the other pointed in Simon's direction.

"I'd say whoever's flying the ship is not very good at it," Simon said calmly.

"Ray! Ray – are you there?" a voice crackled over the intercom. Ray looked at the console on the wall with alarm, then back at Simon.

"How you work this thing?" he demanded.

"The button on the top right. Push it and talk."

"Gorammit, Ray – " the stressed voice continued, but Ray interrupted.

"What is goin' on, Will?"

"Someone's messed with this ship hardcore. I don't know what – " the comm cut off as the ship dropped beneath their feet.

The boy groaned in pain and Simon turned to check on him, but a hard hand grabbed him and pushed him against the counter. "Can you can fly this thing?" Ray asked, his face right up in Simon's.

"I'm a _doctor_."

"Which one of y'all can fly it?"

"Oh," Simon replied. "I'm afraid you beat him unconscious."

Ray pushed Simon away. "Wake him up then."

"He's _unconscious_, not asleep."

They both stumbled to the side as the ship shifted again. Simon caught himself on the edge of the exam table, and when he looked up at Ray he suddenly felt forgotten. Not that he minded, but he was surprised to see Ray's hard stare focused on the boy, something like indecision on his face.

The moment didn't last long. Ray clenched his jaw and looked at Simon again.

"You got the bleedin' stopped?"

Simon glanced at the hastily applied bandage. "For the most part, but – "

"It'll have to do."

Ray was unprepared when the ship lurched again. He nearly fell before he caught the counter.

"Ray! A little help here!" Will's panicked voice sounded over the comm.

Ray pulled himself back over to the panel. "I'm comin', hang on. Make use of this speaker thing and get Ginger down here, I need her." He turned back to Simon. "You're gonna do what you need to wake your man up, or that damn fool will crash this ship with all of us on it."

"Niú fèn," Simon swore, and he looked around the infirmary, gathering his thoughts. He had to get Mal moving without damaging him any more than he already was.

He measured out a sizable dose of stimulant into a syringe, then grabbed a large plastic container from a cabinet and filled it with cold water. He glanced once at Jase, hoping the boy was stable enough to hold out, then headed toward the cargo bay. The ship continued its erratic movement, and he spilled half the water just trying to carry it; the rest he dumped over Mal, which shocked the captain into groaning and lifting his head, half awake but clearly not aware of what was happening. Simon emptied the syringe into Mal's shoulder and began untying him. When he pulled the last cord free, Mal tumbled sideways onto the deck.

Simon reached for the bindings on Mal's wrists, but they were tied too tight. He looked up at Ray, and saw that Ginger was standing behind him.

"I need something to cut these off," Simon said.

"Not till we get him up top. Ginger, give me your guns. You gotta help move him."

Simon was grateful for her help. Mal wasn't up to holding his own weight, and he wasn't a small man.

.*. .*. .*.

River scurried around the engine room frantically. All the voices in her head had been forced to the background as she focused on the difficult task of controlling the ship's flight. Destabilize without crashing; it was a fine edge to walk.

The waves of terror and frustration coming out of Will pleased her. Once she was sure she understood how to run things, she toyed with him. Briefly, she let him have control, just to give him a sense of security, and also so Simon could get the captain up the stairs. But then she put the ship into a steep banking turn and smiled at the rage in Will's mind. The man deserved to suffer. He'd hit Mal, hit him hard enough to hurt him badly, to knock things loose.

Ray had hit, too, but that was different. That was a vein of emotion so deep that even he couldn't see to the bottom of it. Ray wasn't good, but he wasn't evil. Will, on the other hand, was petty spite to the core. He might have beat Mal enough to kill him if Ray hadn't been there to stop him, and for no other reason than because he wanted to.

She chanted as she worked, as if Will could hear her: "You need the captain. Can't kill the captain. Has to be pilot or we'll crash."

_Stay focused,_ she told herself. _don't listen to the voices. Don't look at the pretty trees and listen to the singing. Not now. Not yet._

.*. .*. .*.

When Simon got to the bridge, Will was clutching the steering column desperately, his previous good cheer entirely lost as he fought to keep the ship in the air.

"I don't know what kind'a shă guā they got for a mechanic," the man yelled, "but the ship's not supposed to fly like this!" He took a deep breath and held it as he struggled to halt another dive.

Simon, with Ginger's help, settled a half-conscious Mal into the co-pilot's chair, then braced himself against the console so he could work on the cords binding the captain's hands. Ray stepped in, pushing Simon aside so he could cut the knots with a knife. Mal slouched awkwardly, and Simon had to stop him from falling to the deck.

"Captain?" Simon said. "Mal? Wake up."

Mal groaned as Simon pushed him back in the chair. "Reavers," he mumbled.

"What's he talking about?" Will asked, looking alarmed.

"Reavers got Inara," Mal said softly.

Simon grabbed Mal's collar and pulled him upright. "Captain," he said firmly. "You have to wake up or this bèn dāi zi will crash _Serenity_." Simon was aware of Will glaring at him, but there was no argument over his assessment.

Mal's eyes focused on the doctor. "Simon?"

"Yes, it's me. Are you awake?"

"Dunno." Mal shook his head slightly, squinting at the pain that movement caused. "You gonna stick stuff in my head?"

"Um… not today."

"That's good." Mal glanced down at the console, and he gave a grunt of recognition at what he saw. "Where's River?"

Simon's eyes widened slightly in alarm. "There's… no river here, captain." He glanced at Ray nervously. "Niflheim's a desert."

"Nifl… wha'?"

"You need to fly _Serenity_." Simon looked across at Will in the pilot's seat and Mal followed his gaze. Will's tension was obvious as he fought to hold the ship steady.

Mal stared at Will for a few seconds, then he rolled his head back over his shoulder to look at Ray and Ginger. "Oooh," he said in a half-groan, and he pushed Simon away. "Storm's back," he mumbled, but he pulled his chair up to the co-pilot's console.

"What storm?" Simon asked.

"In my head," Mal answered, tapping his temple before he grabbed the controls.

"I gave you a stimulant."

"And I am feelin' it." Mal looked over at Will. "Hey. Dumbass. Orange switch, down and to your left."

Will looked at Mal, his eyes wide and face covered in a sheen of sweat, then he glanced down at the console. The ship lurched again as the controls shook in his hands.

"Simon," Mal said. "Help this useless piece of lā jī out."

With Mal's direction, Simon located the switch that would transfer control to the co-pilot's station. He flipped it, and the flight immediately smoothed out.

Mal turned to Will. "So," he asked brightly, "where'd you learn to fly?"

Will didn't answer. He let the controls slip out of his shaking hands and sat back in the pilot's seat, breathing unevenly.

Mal continued, "Actually, what I'm wondering is what kind of idiot steals a ship he can't even pilot? Don't they have criminal school out in these parts?"

"You can still fly with a gag," Will said distantly.

Mal fixed him with a hard look. "You try puttin' a gag on me and I will put this ship in a nose dive you won't be gettin' her out of."

"Back off, Will," Ray said. "Captain, don't waste time. We got your ship and what crew are on board. Just do as we say and it'll work out fine."

"And we're saying that you better get us out of atmo as quick as you can," Will ordered. He seemed to be recovering his cool, though his sense of humor was still a far way off. He looked at Mal's hands on the controls, then leaned to the side so he could see better.

"That's a fine idea," Mal said. "Except for the 'quick' part. Ship's got a little problem with the grav drive. If it goes while we're burnin' hard, we're all dead." He looked at Will again. "If it had gone while _you_ were flyin', now, that would'a been all kinds of not fun. You better let those of us with the know-how handle the tricky stuff."

Will glared. Mal returned a wink and a smile that looked ghastly on his bloody face.

Ginger exhaled impatiently from the hatch. "So, boys, we just stole us a ship that don't work?"

.*. .*. .*.

When Mal finally took over the helm, River gratefully relinquished control, then collapsed onto the deck. She held her head in her arms, wanting to rest but unable to let go of the walls she'd built in her mind. She couldn't risk letting the voices speak all at once.

She had to make herself focus on Will. He was the worst one, but if she wanted to survive, to bring her home and her adoptive family through this, she had to go inside him again.

She'd seen one thing about him right away – Will had a piece missing. He'd been born without his empathy; never had it, never would. He'd been gifted with a lot of other things: good-looking, smart, knew how to make people like him. Anyone who didn't like him, well, he knew how to make them afraid. Knew how to push and prod until they squirmed.

River tapped through the surface of his mind, saw the lofty image Will had of himself. Like a cortex comic strip adventure star, all dressed up in black with a big blazing gun, playing his games for the merriment of all. Will always won in the end, always smarter or quicker than anyone else. And if that didn't work, he knew how to cheat, how to hit hard and fast from behind. But no matter how he managed it, Will always won with a smile.

Hadn't quite won this time, not yet. But he knew he would. He was watching the captain fly the ship. He was angry. Very, very angry. Had it buried down deep now, in control, but River could work her way in far enough to see it simmering.

_That's what I did that's how I flew why does it work for him? called me an idiot, thinks I can't fly it's not fair…_

River whimpered at a bitterness so strong it brought a sour taste to her mouth.

_I flew right, I did the same things why didn't it work? he set it up, must of planned it wants to make me look stupid don't need this húndàn, not doing anything I can't do, should've slit his throat watched his blood drain should do it now almost out of atmo I can do the flying in space in orbit shouldn't be hard to fly what is wrong with this ship I'll kill him anyway throw him out the airlock watch his eyes bulge out…_

Will filled with glee as he pictured Mal clawing at the airlock window, his face coming apart under the force of his body's own internal pressure.

River pulled away, literally fell away from him, rolling onto the hard deck of the engine room. She felt like the inside of her head was coated with slime. It wasn't enough, they didn't need the captain enough yet. They needed Simon and weren't thinking about Book, but the captain was in danger. She had to save him. Her home couldn't exist without him.

But she knew what to do – she'd learned by watching Kaylee.

_Nothing to write with,_ she thought. _Need to write._

She snuck down the corridor to the galley and gave a distracted wave to Book. He watched her without speaking as she pulled a marker out of a drawer and dashed back to the engine room, her bare feet silent. Then she flung herself down in front of the open panel under Kaylee's hammock and reached inside, her hands moving with confidence and haste.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon moved toward the back of the bridge and watched the sky outside the windows turn darker as the ship climbed slowly out of atmo. Will was standing behind the pilot's seat now, arguing with Ray. The two men seemed to have forgotten about him, but Ginger was silently waiting in the hatch behind him, gun in hand.

Simon tried to figure Mal's condition; the captain didn't seem to be understanding the situation. He did have a habit of approaching a crisis with what Simon saw as a misplaced sense of humor, but there appeared to be more than that happening here.

"Come on, the grav's not broken," Will was saying to Ray in disgust. "He's just trying to pull one over on us."

"That girl told Jase she was lookin' for parts," Ray said. "Somethin' to do with grav."

Mal laughed softly. "Āi yā – you fellas took a ship you can't fly, even though you knew it ain't space-worthy. Priceless."

"Shut your gorram trap or I'll beat on it some more," Will snapped.

Mal didn't seem bothered by the threat; he continued to mutter. "_I_ ain't even done nothin' that stupid. Y'all should get a prize or somethin'." He shook his head, then winced and raised a hand to his swollen cheek.

Will started reaching for a knife on his belt, but Ray grabbed his arm to stop him. "Easy, we need him."

"He doesn't need his tongue to fly a ship," Will replied. "You got that, Captain?"

Mal dropped his hand from his face and rolled his eyes. "I gotta be good or you'll start cuttin' off parts. Sure. Got it. Not real original, I have to say. Been done before by much scarier folks than you fools."

Will made a gasp of disbelief at Mal's words, and Simon wondered if the captain had gone insane. He was going to goad these men into killing him – but then the doctor had an idea.

"It's the stimulant," Simon said. "It makes him talkative. He can't help it."

Will turned back to Simon. "You gave him a smartass drug?"

Despite himself, Simon found a smile forming on his face. "The stimulant just makes him talk more than usual. He's always been a smartass."

"You're fired, doctor," Mal said.

"Right." Simon pointed his thumb over his shoulder and started to turn away. "I'll just pack up my things and be on my – "

"Stay put and shut your mouth, Doc," Ray ordered, then he added with a shake of his head, "You people are insane."

"You stole a broken ship full of lunatics and you can't fly it," Mal summed up. "Nice! This is good."

Ray had to push Will toward the back of the bridge to keep him away from Mal. "Enough. Will, you take the doc back down to see to Jase."

"_I_ stay on the bridge!" Will insisted, pushing Ray's hands off. "_I'm_ the gorram pilot here!"

"And I hope Willy is well paid for his skills." Mal turned around in his seat. "You mind if I call you Willy?"

Ray had to physically restrain Will. "Back off!" Ray told him harshly, "I can't have you killin' these people. We need em. Now you go and take care of – "

He was cut off by a loud clang that echoed through the ship. Mal felt the shift in his stomach and knew what it was immediately; he cut the engine and pulled the restraints on the copilot's chair over his shoulders. Everyone else on the bridge felt their knees buckle as, for an instant, the ship rose beneath them, but instead of falling to the deck, they all floated up away from it.

"And what ya'all are feelin' now…" Mal said with a joyful smile, "is no internal grav. Fun, huh?"

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
zhēng níng: mean and ferocious  
hún dàn: bastard  
tā mā de hún dàn: mother humping son of a bitch  
hún qiú: no-good bastard  
dì yù: hell  
niú fèn: cow dung  
shă guā: idiot  
bèn dāi zi: stupid fool  
lā jī: trash  
āi yā: damn


	4. Part 4 of 9

**Easy Tickets: Part 4/9 (Chapters 10-12)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

Little warning: Chapter 11 is a little overabundant with the OC. Doesn't fit  
everyone's taste, I know, but worry not! I get back to the crew in Chapter 12.

* * *

Chapter 10.

The four of them sat in the hovercraft, unmoving and unspeaking, as _Serenity_ veered across the sky. Overall, the ship managed to rise, but it took a while before she shrank enough to disappear into the blue.

Jayne grunted. "So how 'bout we take up rock farmin'?"

"Bì zuĭ," Zoë snapped. She looked at the comm in her hand, then scowled and tucked it back in her pocket. "Wash, keep goin'. Maybe there's somethin' to see."

She was right, there was. It took only a few minutes to reach the valley where the ship had been sitting; they found a small flock of crows gathering around a body laying in the dust. Kaylee and Wash stayed by the mule while Jayne looked for tracks. Zoë shooed away the birds and checked the dead man. She crouched over him, looking closely at his forehead.

"Mal put up a fight," she said. "Got one fore he lost." She stood and walked back to the hovercraft. "But at least we know they're all still alive, or at least they were when she took off."

"Not that I'm complainin', but how d'ya know?" Kaylee asked.

Jayne answered. "If they'd dump their own dead, they'd sure dump ours."

"Jayne, stay here with Kaylee," Zoë ordered as she got back in the mule. "See what you can work out. Wash and I are gonna have a look round."

Jayne waited until the hovercraft cleared out, then he turned to Kaylee. "You just stay put there, li'l Kaylee. Don't be confusin' the tracks."

Kaylee didn't question him, just sat in the dust with her back to the corpse, absently twisting her hands together while she tried not to completely give in to worry. Jayne slowly walked around the floor of the valley, stepping carefully, his eyes on the ground. A few times he wondered up into the rocks on the hillside. When he was satisfied that he'd seen all there was to see, he went back to the dead man and dug through his pockets. He made a short exclamation of joy, and Kaylee turned to see him prying a gun out of the man's clenched right hand. She quickly turned away from the sight, but Jayne was still holding the firearm tenderly in both hands when he came to sit next to her, a look of reverence on his face.

Zoë and Wash returned about ten minutes later. "We found their transport," Zoë called as soon as Wash shut the mule's engine down. "Couldn't have been more than half a dozen of em."

"They was five," Jayne said, getting to his feet to point out tracks in the dirt. "We got one come in back that way, three from the side here, and one from the front. That last one was a sniper, sittin' behind a rock a ways up yonder. Woman, most like. One of the others, last of the three to come in from the side, was small-like. A kid or a woman."

Wash gave Jayne a look of begrudging respect, then turned to Zoë. "That was actually somewhat impressive."

"Other thing is," Jayne continued, "someone sides the bearded fella here got shot."

"How d'you figure?" Zoë asked.

Jayne led her over near the body, to a straight line in the dust – the imprint of the cargo bay door where it had rested against the ground. He hunkered down and pointed out the marks.

"See here, lots a' blood just at the edge of the door. Shoulders here, and an arm here. It was the small one." He lifted something out of the dust: a faded green bandanna. "This came off their head when they got dragged up the ramp."

Zoë stood up. "So, five to start with," she said thoughtfully. "And one got killed and one got hurt." She started back toward Wash and Kaylee. "Most like, the ship's bein' held by only three. We can fight that, if we can catch up and get on without them knowin' it."

"Sounds like a great plan," Wash called out from where he leaned against the hovercraft. "Except for the catching up part and the getting on part. This is a very nice mule, but it won't be breaking atmo any time soon."

"I'm workin' on it," Zoë said with a hint of impatience. "Let's head back to Xiaojun's. She might have something that can break atmo, or at least know where we can get one. We've got money, could be we'll find somethin' in town. As to sneakin' onto _Serenity_ - it's been done before, it can be done again."

.*. .*. .*.

River had learned about the green lever from 'watching' Kaylee work, picking up stray thoughts from the mechanic's mind. It deactivated the grav system, disengaging it from the rest of the engine so it could be repaired without a full power-down. Kaylee had never used it, so it was heavy and hard to move. River adjusted a few settings which would effect how the grav came back on, then she twisted uncomfortably to get her body into the panel. She had to hang her full weight on the lever to make it slide down.

There was a loud clang as the machinery it connected to shifted, then River felt the deck press up against her for just a second before Mal cut the engine. She smiled proudly: clever captain had caught on quickly, just like she'd known he would.

Her body floated away from the deck, but it didn't bother her. She'd done some training with weightlessness at the Academy and she'd never had a problem with it. It was like flying. How could anyone feel sick about something as lovely as flying? She'd never understood her classmates, throwing up in their suits when they could be enjoying the ride.

A few seconds later the main lights flickered and went out, and the low power emergency lights came up with a dark blue glow. Just an automatic precaution, she knew. Standard practice during major engine shutdowns. She could fix it, but she liked the color. Made it more fun to fly.

She paused for a second in the semi-darkness, listening with her ears and mind. Waves of nausea and confusion radiated from the bridge, most notably from Simon. River shook her head – poor Simon, no zero G training at MedAcad.

They'd be awhile, the three bad ones, figuring out what to do. And most importantly, there was no way they'd kill the captain now. They'd make him try to fix the ship. There wasn't much for her to do but stay out of the way, which wouldn't be difficult. They'd be busy on the upper level for some time.

She pushed herself through the hatch and down the corridor; the freedom of the movement was thrilling. The exercises at the Academy had been in small spaces that approximated weightlessness for a short time; they hadn't come anywhere close to this. She let herself spin as she passed down the hall. The familiar space became something completely different when she wasn't limited to walking on the deck. Any surface could be up, any could be down. It didn't matter.

Smoothly, she angled around the corner, and she grinned as she threw in a few somersaults before reaching the stairway that led toward the cargo bay.

.*. .*. .*.

Ray felt the ship jolt beneath his feet and prepared himself to hit the floor, taking his finger off the trigger of his gun but gripping it tightly so he wouldn't lose it. It took a few seconds for him to realize that he hadn't hit the deck yet; in fact, he didn't seem to be touching anything at all. To make matters worse, the room suddenly went dark, then dim blue lights came up that weren't much help.

He caught a glimpse of the captain, strapped to the co-pilot's chair, watching with a wide grin. Ray might have had a word or two to say about that grin, but then he realized that the captain was looking _up_ at him, and that didn't make sense. Then Ray's head hit the ceiling.

He tried to catch hold of anything he could, but couldn't get a solid grip. With nothing to make him stay put, he found himself spinning slowly and heading toward the floor again. On his way down he noticed Will, floating with his feet off the ground, holding some cables that ran out of the top of a row of lockers, also watching with a look of amusement. Ray definitely had a few words to say about that, but his shoulder touched the deck before he could speak.

He finally found purchase in the grating of the deck, gripping tight with his left hand. He let out a sigh of relief that he was finally staying put, but then he noticed the captain, leaning forward in the chair and looking down at him.

"Well done," the captain said with a crooked smile. "I think you'll get this. Just don't look down." He tilted his head sideways and continued with a confused look. "Or is it up?"

Ray looked up (or down?) at his feet and the ceiling beyond them, and his stomach did a long slow lurch.

"Ahh, this just gets better and better," the captain muttered, then he bent over Ray again, "Best not puke, it'll float about and make a big stinky mess. You'll be runnin' into it, getting it all over ya."

Ray swallowed hard and had to let go of the grating to put his hand over his mouth, which delighted the captain to no end.

"Enough, Captain _Smith_," Ray heard Will's voice behind him, and gorramn if that man didn't sound like he was laughing too. "Doc, do you have anything that'll help Ray here keep his lunch?"

There was no answer. Ray looked behind him and noticed that the fancy doctor wasn't faring much better. The man – Simon – had one hand hooked between two large pipes running along the bulkhead and was staying put, but his face was a color that was all wrong, made even worse by the blue light. Simon had the additional excuse of a rather nasty blow to the head, but his condition made Ray feel a little better.

Ginger was wedged tight in the hatch in back. At first Ray thought she had her gun on _him_, but then he realized he was just in the way of the captain. She'd been keeping the man covered, which was fortunate considering how long it was taking Ray to pull himself together.

If there was one thing Ray had, that nothing life threw at him could take away, it was willpower. He swallowed down bile and took his hand away from his face to catch the deck grating again, then pushed himself toward the pipes the doctor was holding. He managed to grab them on the first try and held himself somewhere close to upright. He wasn't going to let this situation get out of his control; it was _his_ job, and he meant to be the one running it. The nausea gradually faded.

"Captain Mal whatever-your-name-is," he said. "What the hell is this?"

"I told you, grav drive. Broken. Wŏ men wán le." He finished with a snicker, looking real broke up about the situation.

"You better hope you can fix it," Will said, apparently finished with his laughing-at-Ray time. "We can't maneuver without internal grav, and if your ship's useless you and yours are too. We'll throw you out the airlock and take the shuttle back down to look for other options." This idea seemed to restore even more of Will's cheer.

The captain rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll have a look at it." He released the seat's restraints and kicked off the front edge of the console, shooting across the bridge and neatly catching the hatch next to Ginger. Ray heard the man mutter as he passed by: "Stranger things have happened."

"Will, you stay here," Ray said. He pushed himself toward the hatch and managed to reach there hands first, though there was a scary moment before he got purchase.

"You think you can make it across the whole ship?" Will asked with half a grin.

"Just keep an eye on the doc," Ray replied as he followed Mal out into the corridor. "Ginger, make sure he ain't gonna kill anyone."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal pulled himself past the crew quarters. Funny that with all the years he'd had this ship, he'd never been weightless on her. Zero G made one reconsider all manner of things, direction being the most obvious, the placement of handholds being a close second. But there were wires running high on the bulkhead that he could use to steer himself along, and it wasn't too tricky. He'd been weightless plenty of times during the war; the rules of it kicked in like it'd been yesterday.

He glanced back and saw that Ray wasn't doing so well, he kept over-correcting, turning sideways and losing his grip. Mal considered leaving the man behind, but there didn't seem to be much point to it. Or to any of the other stuff he'd normally be doing in this situation: plotting, finding weapons, looking for his opponents' weaknesses...

Thing of it was, Mal was having a hard time focusing. The headache didn't help, nor did the perky-making drug Simon had shot him up with. But those weren't the real problem; it was more about a familiar feeling of unreality, kind of like he was dreaming. And if that was the case, there was no way he was going to fall for it again.

He paused at the hatch into the dining room and saw Book hovering under the table. The man looked fairly at ease, though he was trapped there, his arms wrapped around the bolted-down table leg and wrists bound together.

_Huh, we got us a preacher floatin' under a table_, Mal thought. Sounded like the first line of a joke. He'd have to remember to tell Book about this later, when he woke up.

"Hey! You havin' fun, Shepherd?"

"Like a barrel of space monkeys, Captain," Book replied with a tired smile.

Mal aimed himself toward the opposite hatch and kicked off. He didn't look back to see how Ray was getting on; he found he was caring less and less. That lovely disconnected feeling was growing, and flying toward the dining room table fit right into his state of mind.

_So, one time a preacher was floatin' under a table… _

He wasn't sure where to go with that. There needed to be a rabbi involved. And maybe a whore.

_So, one time a preacher and a rabbi were floatin' under a table when a whore happened by… _

Even better…

_So, one time a preacher and a rabbi were floatin' under a table when a whore happened by holdin' a banana… _

Mal chuckled, but he lost his train of thought when he came upon a cloud of floating bear steaks, and he had to slap them away to clear a path. After passing that obstacle, he encountered a chair drifting at the far end of the table. He considered swinging it toward Ray, but there was one little corner of his mind that insisted that this might really be happening. That might actually be Book under the table, and the gun-toting wáng bā dàn behind (below?) him might indeed shoot the Shepherd with genuine bullets if offered an excuse. So Mal just pushed the chair aside gently, and continued on through the aft hatch.

_Forgot where I was. Oh yeah – but maybe it should be a poem?  
__The table sat over the preacher,  
__Who looked like the silliest creature…_

Hmm, dead end with that. Maybe, instead of poetry, he ought to be working on some Kaylee-style tech talk. Something just sensible enough to convince Ray that he could fix the grav drive if they'd give him time to work. It was a bad day when the best Mal could do was delay, but who knows, maybe River would appear out of thin air and show him how to wake up.

Poetry was a helluva lot more fun, though.

_Float, ye Shepherd, float  
__Upon this gravfree boat… _

He passed down the corridor and pulled himself into the engine room, then down to the open panel under Kaylee's hammock. There was a flashlight taped to the deck in front of the panel. _Clever Kaylee_, he thought. He pulled it up and shone it around inside. To his left, behind the next panel over, there was neat writing on the floor, just deep enough into the space to not be visible from the outside. Mal gave up his literary efforts so he could read River's.

_Captain – lift the green lever to activate the grav_

An arrow pointed to the side and up, and Mal followed it with the flashlight. The lever in question had a big star next to it, and the note:

_yes this one _

Mal looked back at the writing on the floor.

_Don't tell them how you did it.  
__Tell them it might break again,  
__and they won't kill you.  
__And quit being silly. This is __real_

Huh, Mal thought. Clever River.

He heard Ray finally arrive behind him. "Just need some time to work things out here," Mal said over his shoulder.

Ray held himself still in the hatchway. "You can fix it?"

"I can patch it together enough to last a little while." Mal's head was inside the panel, so Ray couldn't see the grin on his face.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon huddled in a ball next to the port bulkhead of the bridge, one hand gripping the steel brace around a pipe. His other arm was clenched across his stomach as he fought down nausea. It was his first experience with weightlessness, and he'd quickly decided that he could do without it. His head was still throbbing as well; he most definitely had a concussion. Not a bad one, but enough to be… not fun.

There was voices in the background. Gradually, he tuned in to what Ginger was saying.

"We'll be a little delayed, it's the ship we took, got a little problem… No ma'am, the crew was no problem, didn't even have to kill any. Lost one of ours, though."

"No," she continued after a pause. "He weren't important. Nobody we need."

Simon kept his head down: he didn't think this was something he was supposed to be hearing. But he managed a quick peek. Will was hanging onto the lockers and Ginger was in the hatch talking into a small electronic device.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll let you know as soon as we get there." Ginger shut the thing off and put it in her pocket.

"Does she sound mad?" Will asked

"The old lady never _sounds_ mad. Ain't nothing we can do bout it, anyhow. She'll just have to wait."

"And so will we." Will looked quite comfortable with being weightless, turning himself sideways with barely a touch on the locker.

"You know," Ginger said, "there's a better way to handle this than waitin' for that méi yòng de captain to break things even worse."

"What's that?"

"That girl that talked to Jase in the shop – she was the mechanic, right? And she went to out to the desert to get whatever they needed to fix this boat. Let's get her up here."

Simon dropped all pretense of not paying attention; he straightened and stared at Ginger. She glanced at him when he moved, but didn't seem to think he posed much of a threat.

"You know where to find her?" Will asked.

"I'll wager the folks that left got comms with em."

Will grinned and kicked off the lockers, floating across the room to catch hold of the pilot's chair. "I knew there was more than one reason why I brought you along," he said.

"More n' two," she countered.

He grinned again, and got busy with the comm controls. "Odd – it's set to play out in the cargo bay. Let me switch it…"

Simon had managed to curl his legs under him, his nausea and dizziness forgotten as a wave of rage took over his mind. There was no excuse for bringing Kaylee into this. He wouldn't allow it.

Will was just starting to speak into the comm when Simon hurtled himself across the bridge, catching Will around the waist. The two men tumbled past the console into the small space in the nose of the ship. Simon braced a foot against the console for leverage while he drove his fist into Will's face, and he heard a satisfying crunch.

But Simon's heroics were short-lived. Will had years of experience with moving in zero G, and he recovered quickly. He got his feet hooked through the railing of a ladder top and pulled Simon away from the console. Simon had no purchase, no way to counter the blows that rained down on his abdomen. He soon found himself floating in the small space, curled up and retching. He vaguely remembered what Mal had said about vomiting in a weightless environment, but there wasn't much to be done about it.

As he tried to get his breath back, he heard Will speaking into the comm, "Whoever's listening: I have myself a Firefly complete with captain, doctor, and old man. How much do you care if I start killing?" Will waited a few seconds, then added. "It'll be real slow and painful, and, to be frank, none of them are in the best of shape at the moment anyway…"

.*. .*. .*.

Mal still hovered low over the deck, hands inside the panel, trying to seem like he was busy working on something complicated. But really he was finally making an effort to think straight. If this might actually be happening, he should maybe try catching up a bit.

He looked once at Ray, then took his time going over the events he could remember since he'd first seen the two shadows in the cargo bay entrance. One thing in particular came to mind.

"He yours?" Mal asked.

He glanced over his shoulder to see if he had Ray's attention. The man had his long legs folded across the hatch, wedging himself in. His arms were crossed in front of him, gun floating loosely in his fingers, and he didn't look interested in anything Mal had to say.

"That boy I shot," Mal said. "He yours?"

That got through. Ray looked at Mal, but his face was expressionless when he answered. "He look like he's mine?"

"Oh, he's got Chinese blood all right, but only bout half."

Ray didn't answer, didn't make any sign that he'd heard. Mal turned to look inside the panel again while he spoke. "You weren't so happy about me shootin' him."

There was another long silence. Ray certainly wasn't chatty.

Mal fiddled with a wire, then decided it'd be better not to touch anything mechanical – wouldn't do much good if he broke the ship for real. He made himself look busy by tracing his fingers over River's writing on the deck.

"Boy saved your life," he said casually.

Mal glanced up again, and saw that Ray was watching him close. He couldn't tell if the man wanted to hear more or was thinking of shooting him to make him shut up. _Walk soft_, Mal reminded himself. _This is really happening. _

_Oh, to hell with it._

He abandoned all pretense of working so he could watch Ray's reaction, and explained. "Right when the shootin' started - you didn't know where I went. I was down on the deck, could see you from underneath the screen." Mal tilted his head to the side and held up his right hand, miming a gun as he recreated the shot in his mind. "Just bout had you lined up." He dropped his hand and shrugged. "But the kid shot at me from the ramp. Got close, too. I had to take him out first, and by then you'd moved on."

Ray didn't answer. He stared blankly at the bulkhead above Mal's head, his tight face unreadable.

Mal took a deep breath, and let it out. "You know, I'm thinkin' it didn't matter much that I was all tied down when you saw he was shot. I could'a had a loaded gun in each hand and a pile of land mines tween us. You'd a' come at me anyway."

There was another long silence, and Mal thought he wouldn't get an answer, but then Ray grumped in a deep voice, "He ain't mine."

That hung in the air for a while before Mal asked, "So, Ray, I'm just wonderin', but why do you care so much about that boy goin' down?"

Ray held Mal's eye for a frozen moment. Then he unfolded his arms, not pointing the gun at Mal, but making sure the threat was visible.

"There's somethin' you need to understand, _Mal_," he said the name like it tasted bad. "You ain't captain of this here ship no more. You keep your mouth shut and do as I tell ya. You got that?"

The dueling stare lasted just a few seconds before Mal tipped his head to the side with an indifferent shug.

"Whatever you say, boss."

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
bì zuĭ: shut your mouth  
wŏ men wán le: we're in big trouble  
wáng bā dàn: SOB  
méi yòng de: useless

* * *

Chapter 11.

River drifted down the stairway, occasionally touching a step or bulkhead to straighten out the path her body followed. As she neared the cargo bay, she folded up her knees so she could get a good hard push off the bottom step.

She entered the cargo bay like a story book heroine in full flight, diving over the catwalk into the wide open space. Her heart was in her throat, in the most enjoyable way. It was called freefall, but it didn't feel like falling. It felt like hovering, and she thrilled over looking down at the deck from an angle that shouldn't have been possible. Eventually, she reached the fore catwalk and grabbed the railing on the far side of it. Her momentum carried her around until she let go at just the right instant, landing with a deep plié on the bulkhead above the main doors. A push toward the deck, a cartwheel and a second push, and she was gliding through the space again, a big smile on her face.

With only the emergency lights on, the bay had a blue and white glow that caught on the few objects which had been left unsecured. River swam through them, imagining herself underwater, but that wasn't quite right. She had been underwater, and it wasn't like this. Underwater had resistance and weight, and the constant ache of breath being held. This was light and airy and free. No, not free – that wasn't right either. She was a slave to her momentum. Linear, rotational. Transferring between herself and the floating objects in her path, changed by impulse equals force times time on whatever surface she touched. Vectors of velocity, changed by force equals mass times acceleration. Torque, center of mass, air drag on fabric and hair…

Equations she'd understood since she was a little girl, but she'd never seen them applied as clearly, or as enjoyably, as this. She could draw herself in and spin rapidly, then open her arms and legs in an arabesque and rotate slowly ten meters over the deck.

The joy was so overpowering that the bad voices had no sway over her. She kept just enough of them in her head to know where they were, and she was confident that they wouldn't be bothering her play time for a while. She'd given them plenty to stay busy with upstairs.

She felt the captain passing through the dining room directly above her. He'd had a few things knocked loose in his head; but, confused as he was, it wasn't his way to be careless. He'd do it right. She didn't need to worry about him for a while – she'd done her job and now she just needed to stay out of the way.

Her body continued the game, but moved slower as her attention went elsewhere. She finally opened her mind to the boy laying unconscious in the infirmary; she wanted to see the patterns in the sky above the brightly colored trees, and to meet the woman with the long black hair and brown eyes who sang in a warm, soft voice.

.*. .*. .*.

_A boy is sitting at a homemade wooden table, on a little wooden stool. _

_It is difficult to bring him into focus. River sits down across the table from him, studying his wavering form. Mostly, he looks like a six year old half-Chinese boy, his short black hair freshly washed, his face glowing a healthy pink, and his smiling eyes a startling jade green. _

_But other images flicker around the little boy. River focuses on them, and realizes that they are older versions of the same person. His hair gets longer as he grows, and his face turns glum. Some of the older boys have bruised cheeks and swollen lips. One that appears only briefly has blood all over his chest and dirty hair hanging over his down-turned face, like a curtain hiding his features._

What is this place? _River wonders._ And why are you so many people?

_The youngest boy, the one with joyful eyes, is looking right through her. He doesn't see her; but, at some level, he must know she's there. His thoughts flow to her and through her. The voice doesn't belong to a six year old, it's a teenager, and he answers her in a rambling, indirect way. _

Autumn - Before. The trees're still alive. Gold and yellow and red and orange. The wind makes them swirl. I used to look at em for hours.

_River turns around; a door is propped open to let in the soft air. Outside, the trees swirl, just as he said. She walks to the door to look at the sky; it glows deep blue and there are colorful arcs in it: planetary rings, she realizes. It is all very pretty; it makes her happy, too. _

_She turns back. A Chinese woman has taken the seat across from the boy. She is braiding her silky black hair into one long plait that she wraps around her head and fastens with a silver pin. Then she stands up, kisses the boy's forehead, and goes to the griddle. River walks toward the table, studying the woman. She is pretty, but when she smiles she is beautiful. There is so much love in that smile. _

_The boy is explaining again. _

Dumplings packed full a' apples. No one else's Ma makes the sweet dough like this, just mine. Says she learned it from her own Ma. And today I get bacon. Uncle Bucky sent it from town. He lives there, and sends presents a lot.

Uncle Bucky liked me. He always liked me a lot.

I get all my favorites today cause the harvest is in. Best harvest Ma and Pa ever seen, that's what they say. I know what that means: everythin' else'll be good now too. Ma and Pa'll be happy.

That's what I thought back then, anyhow.

_Two shadows wonder into the kitchen. River understands: it is a memory within his memory. The shadows are his Ma and Pa, and they exchange smiles of relief. It happened just minutes ago, before Pa went out the open door into the sunshine. _

_The boy's Pa is solidly built from hours of labor in the fields, his thick hair lightened and smooth skin darkened by the sun. He is tall and River thinks that if she were older, she would think him handsome. _

_River feels how the boy worships his Pa. She also understands that Pa's distant manner, the way he doesn't talk very much, just makes him look like more of a hero in the boy's eyes. Pa gives approval only when it's earned; he can do that because he is wise. _

Harvest is done, but Pa's goin' out to clear up the fields more. He says never leave the future to the fates. A man has to earn his way, and hardship always finds the lazy ones – but he ain't lazy, not my Pa. He works dawn till dusk, comes home tired and dirty. But he says toil is a blessin', cause the lean-to and the cellar are stuffed full, and we'll be eatin' good this winter.

_The shadows of his parents linger in the kitchen. Ma kisses Pa on the cheek and Pa looks startled by it, but he smiles and whistles as he sets out. It is unusual, River realizes, this sharing of happiness between Ma and Pa. Even the six year old boy sees how unnatural it is, and it has stayed in the teenager's memory that way. His parents don't kiss often. _

_Seeing them smile at each other has made him happier than any tasty breakfast ever could – but the dumplings don't hurt. The shadows fade out and Ma sets a plate in front of the boy. River smiles to see him dig in with unselfconscious gusto. He knows he deserves the treat; he's worked very hard this summer. It's the first time he's been a help rather than a burden to his Pa. _

_He brags to River: _

Everyday, I carried lunch out to Pa and the hands in the fields. When the sun was at her hottest I took water out. Ma let it cool in the cellar and sweetened Pa's bottle with just a little sugar so it'd taste good. Other times, I helped Ma with the garden. Planted the seeds, sang to em while we tended, then picked it all to store away. Plump red tomatoes and shiny green peppers, onions and carrots and taters.

_And now it's all done, and this morning of his memory has dawned warm and bright like winter might not ever come. _

_The boy at the table doesn't waver anymore; the youngest version of him is solid, with none of those pained shadows cutting in. He is working on his second fritter, saving the biggest bits of apple for last. _

_He has something else to show River, another memory in this memory. It is outside the open door. _

Ma's favorite thing – after me, she always said – the apple tree out back. Half again as tall as Pa it is, though Ma says it'd been barely longer than her arm when she first put it in the ground.

_Leaves blow off the apple tree, but then it wavers as many younger versions of it show through. Ma sits in the grass underneath it, with her son in her arms. Baby, toddler, six year old boy – all overlap. She points to wavering blossoms/small green apples/big red apples above, and tells her boy the tree's story over and over, as he tells it to River. _

Ma held the baby tree in her lap on the crowded ship that brung her through the Black. The other pioneers looked at her all funny when she sang to the twig stickin' out of a wrapped up ball of dirt. They got mad when she gave it her water, but that's cause they didn't understand. Ma brought this tree through the stars, carin' for it until it could reach here, take root, and grow strong. She figured I'd be comin' along, and she wanted to share it with me.

_The wind stirs the branches of the tree, and all the different memories of Ma and Jase sing against the murmuring of the leaves. _

_River turns away from the open door. Ma is sitting across the table from Jase again; she starts singing, and Jase sings along in a clear child's voice. River takes a stool between them and stares at the boy. She wants him to look back at her. _

"_Hiding here, aren't you?" she asks. _

_He doesn't respond, just keeps singing. _

"_It's okay, I won't make you leave. I like it here too." _

_River feels a warmth like a light shining on her – the equivalent of a gaze, a suspicious stare. When the voice speaks again, it sounds older, and addresses her directly._

You don't belong here.

_She feels a push. It makes him uncomfortable that she talked to him, he wasn't expecting that. He wants her to leave. _

"_I want to be your friend," she says. _

I ain't got friends.

"_Have me now. I like you." _

_The older versions of the boy begin to flicker in again, the youngest growing faint inside them. _

You don't know who I am.

_She makes her voice cheerful. "Show me. I want to know." _

No.

"_It's okay – " _

NO!

_He is trying to force her out. But River has some power here, she learned it from the time she'd spent in the captain's dreams. She grips the table, though it isn't real and there is nothing to hold. But it is an analog to resistance, and it helps her fight. _

_Her fingers make claws, nails digging into the wood, and she stays. She looks at the flickering images of the boy across the table, picking the one that must be the oldest, the teenager with the bloody shoulder and unwashed hair hanging down to his chin. She concentrates, fighting his attempts to slip away, and she makes the oldest him turn solid. He is weakening, and she can let go of the table to reach out and push his dirty, matted hair aside. _

_The face behind it looks barely human: bruises and cuts and blood, his nose bent sideways from being broken and lips and eyes swollen. River's stomach twists at the sight; she lets go of his hair, and of his image. The happy young boy instantly returns, picking up another dumpling and stuffing it his mouth like nothing happened. _

"_I'm sorry," she tries to say, but he is pushing her away again, and she can't fight it this time. He hadn't really been trying before, she realizes. He is very strong in his mind, and when he really wants her out, she has no choice but to go. _

.*. .*. .*.

River opened her eyes. She had an arm folded around a railing of the catwalk, and wasn't moving. She was grateful to find herself here; if she'd been out in the middle of the bay with very little velocity, she'd be in trouble. The gravity was going to come back on at some point, whenever the captain got around to switching the lever in the engine room, and she'd better be holding something when it did or she'd be one of Kaylee's greasy spots on the deck far below.

She listened for the captain – he wasn't ready to turn on the grav yet; he was still talking to Ray. She could play more if she wanted, but she'd lost heart for her game. She regretted being pushy with Jase. It wasn't right to pry, not with him. He wasn't out to hurt anyone; she shouldn't have dug around in his private thoughts like that.

But now she wanted to know more about him, to understand why he saw himself like he did. She reached out carefully, and could tell that he'd woken up. She couldn't get into his thoughts; his mind was a fortress, and she'd never get back in by force.

Maybe there were other ways – Jase had been hurt lots; River knew about hurt. But she knew about other things too, things that didn't hurt. She could offer those to him.

"Playtime now," she muttered. "_I_ say so."

She made herself return to the game, casting hurt aside and trying to get lost in the fun of flying. She had a feeling that Jase would come play.

.*. .*. .*.

At first, he'd a hard time. He had mixed-up memories of gunfire inside a big dark space, a giant room made of cold, hard metal. A man had been about to kill Ray – Jase had tried to help, but then there was pain, sharp burning pain in his shoulder, and he was down on his back in the dust, staring up at the neck of a spaceship that blocked out the sky.

He had tried to go away inside his mind, but Ginger was there, moving him, making it hurt worse so he couldn't think. Then Ray was mad and hitting someone. Jase's shoulder throbbed and he realized Ray had picked him up.

Then he was in a little room, laying on a narrow bed. A strange man was talking all square. Jase felt a sting in his arm and the pain faded away…. Finally, it got real easy to get away, to visit Ma.

After a bit, he felt that something was different. Something was pushing at him, not letting him run things how he liked. It wanted to know stuff, so he explained. He was happy to at first; he hadn't had a chance to talk about Ma in a long, long time. He explained the things that were good.

But then the Something was talking back to him. It asked about the things that weren't so good, made it hard for him to pretend nothing outside was real. Then it started saying that It was his friend, that It liked him. He should have known better, should have known those were just lies, meant to trick him. But he wanted to believe, so he let the Something get closer.

Suddenly there were two brown eyes, staring right into him, and he couldn't hide anything. He was scared and he shoved the Thing away, as hard as he could. But he couldn't feel safe in his dream anymore, knowing that Something could come find him like that.

Jase opened his eyes, then decided that he had to be dreaming still. He was floating, not touching anything. Well – almost.

There was a sting on the inside of his right elbow that felt real as could be. It took him a bit to focus his eyes in the darkness, but he finally worked out what it was – a needle, attached to a tube, stuck into his skin. He peeled back a strip of white tape and pried the needle out, though using his left arm made his shoulder hurt. The ache was different from before – distant, like it wasn't happening to him, like it was some other person's body telling his how to feel.

Once his elbow was free of the needle, he really wasn't touching anything, which was weird. It wasn't his usual dream, but his head felt funny and light and the ache in his shoulder faded away completely. He liked it, being floaty like this. In his body and on the inside of his head. Floaty and smooth. His thoughts were going around in big floaty smooth circles, circles that wobbled and sometimes veered in crazy directions. He let them go. Wasn't anyone around to yell at him for thinking wrong.

Of course he thought about Ma, but she just passed by again and again without doing much. He thought about Ray, even though he didn't want to. He thought about big brown eyes peeking at him from behind leafy green branches full of apples. He thought about what his own eyes were really seeing, and it didn't make a lick of sense.

There was a big white squarish thing sticking out of a dark background. Jase couldn't guess as to what it was, so he finally stretched his right arm out and found he could touch it. It was soft and padded. It was a bed, a narrow bed with rails on the side, and there were dark stains on one corner of it. It was sitting in the center of a room lined with counters, and he was floating above it, and that was just crazy. Ray would yell at him for thinking something fanciful like that.

Jase's light touch on the bed didn't last long; he found himself moving away from it, drifting up and spinning real slow, so his feet sank toward the bed. And then he was looking at a wall lit with a faint greenish blue glow, and there was a dark window in it. And just then, something went by outside the window, something that glowed like a ghost.

It startled him and he straightened his body, driving the back of his head into the hard ceiling, and then he spiraled down. He tried to grab the foot of the bed, but only managed to push himself away from it and he was lost.

After a time, he bumped into something solid and he clung there until he worked things out. He was holding the hinges of an open door, the only way out of the small room. He found the dark window in the far wall – within a few seconds, the ghost went by again. But it wasn't a ghost, he saw; it was an angel. An angel like Ma used to sing about, graceful and pretty, looking all soft and blue-white.

He turned away from the small room so he could go find her, pushed off the doorway and caught the railing of a few stairs going up to his right. There was another round doorway, and behind it was a big dark space, so dark he couldn't really see anything but the angel. She was far away, going head first toward the floor. Maybe it wasn't the floor; maybe he had it wrong. He let himself rotate so the nearest big flat surface was above his head. That must be the ceiling, he decided. Weird to have a doorway so near the ceiling.

.*. .*. .*.

It wasn't hard to get happy again. River kept her mind to herself, and almost got lost in the bliss of spinning and drifting. But she kept checking with her eyes, glancing over to the hatch until she saw him appear there, and as dove toward the deck she furtively watched him turn upside down so he was oriented the same way she was.

She peeked again a minute later, and he'd come out into the bay, hovering under the platform connecting the aft stairways. It was like he was laying on his belly against the underside of it.

Having an audience made River playful; she shot herself back through the bay, did a flip on the deck, then planted her feet right on the edge of the platform, not half a meter from where Jase's hands held his body in place. She let herself touch his thoughts for just a second, finding that the walls weren't as strong as they'd been and she could get a little way in. He was staring at her face, liking how happy she looked, thinking he'd felt like that once, a long time ago.

River pushed away from the platform, her elation crushed by pity for this person who hadn't known joy in years – but then she had to think about something else, and be quick about it. She hadn't been paying attention to the captain. She was only halfway up to the ceiling when a distant clang from the lever on the artificial gravity system echoed into the bay.

.*. .*. .*.

A sudden harsh, blaring noise splintered the peace and made Jase flinch. A woman's voice began speaking really loud, but he couldn't understand all of it. He just knew it was a warning, and he looked to his angel for help. He could see her through the metal grating he held himself against; she seemed far, far away, just coming in contact with a flat, shadowed surface. She crouched into a deep knee-bend, her face intent, not happy like before. She launched herself powerfully through the air like a dart, her arms stretched in front of her.

She had just grabbed on to a metal rail when Jase felt a giant hand press the front of his body and shove him away from the platform. He flew straight up and crashed onto his back against what he'd thought was the ceiling, then he stuck there, still pressed by the invisible force.

The impact knocked his air out and made his shoulder burn, but he had a long second of clarity, looking through the metal platform to a railing where the angel was hanging with her feet toward him. He saw her swing herself onto a walkway, then his lungs were burning with returning air and sharp pains racked his shoulder as he coughed.

When he was able to see again, she was coming down a stairway from the platform, looking right at him. Then she was standing next to him.

_If I ain't dead already,_ he thought, _gotta be my time now. Sorry, Ray. _

But he wasn't really sorry. He wanted to go. He wanted to see Ma again.

Bright lights came on, and the angel in the blue gown turned into an ordinary girl with a dirty face, messy dark brown hair, and a light gray tattered dress that hung loose on her bony frame. But her eyes were bright, and he thought that maybe the angel was still there, hiding somewhere inside.

"You've got it all wrong," she said. He winced; she didn't sound like an angel, not at all. Her voice was loud and firm like she was out to lecture him.

"Oh – sorry," she said, not so loud this time, and dropped to her knees beside him. "It's just the way you look. Not at all like what you think." She was touching his face, and her hand felt cool and dry. Her fingers ran lightly over the bruise on the corner of his mouth.

"Simon can give you something to make your lip feel better," she said. "Look better too, no more swelling."

Too many words, he couldn't work out what the dìyù she was talking about. It'd be nice if she'd say something useful, something he could understand.

"Ma here?" he asked.

She looked sad. Her eyes were brown, and he recognized them.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Can't take you to see her." Her hand shifted to his chest, laying lightly over his heart. "But she's in here. Never left."

She said that so nice that he wondered how her eyes had ever scared him. He watched her lift her hand off his chest to look at the blood on her fingers. Then she leaned over him, and suddenly she looked mad. Yeah, he corrected himself, she could be scary.

But she wasn't mad at him. "Simon can do better than that," she said, and she pressed her lips together angrily.

"Simon?"

Her eyes narrowed as she wiped her hand on her dress, leaving streaks of his blood there. "He's _supposed_ to be a doctor. I'll have a talk with him."

"Don't matter," he whispered.

She touched his forehead again, and her voice got softer. "Don't worry. I didn't mean it. He's really the best doctor there is; he'll fix you."

She was nice to say that, even if she was wrong. He liked how she smiled. It was like Ma's smile; it was like she really cared. Made him feel better about dying.

"You're not going to die," she said.

"How do'ya know?

She straightened a little, lifting her chin. "I'm very smart."

He smiled. "Yeah, I bet ya are."

She was pushing his hair back from his face now, from where it stuck in the sweat on his forehead and cheeks. His hair must be really dirty, and he was ashamed to have her touch him, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Stay with me?" he asked. "Just till…" He didn't want to say the rest.

"You don't believe me, do you? That you won't die?"

"Sorry."

"I don't mind. You'll believe me eventually, because I'm right." She was kind'a bratty when she said that, but she took his hand and held it, so he forgave her. "I'll stay," she said. "The trees are nice, and your Ma is very pretty. Will you tell me about her some more? And your Pa?"

Definitely, those were the eyes that had seen into him. But now he knew who they belonged to, and he didn't need to be afraid. He nodded, and she held his hand and stroked his hair until he dreamed again.

.*. .*. .*.

As Jase faded, River heard something above her. She froze, breath held as she looked up into the darkness. It was the woman – Ginger. The clang of her boots on the metal catwalk echoed in the empty space, but she didn't look down, just went directly to Shuttle Two.

River exhaled in relief as soon as the hatch closed. Once over her fright, she listened: the woman was thinking about a mechanic… Kaylee. Going to get Kaylee. That was no good. Playtime was almost over then; it would be time to get back to work soon. River checked with the captain; he was just leaving the engine room, with Ray following him. They were going to the bridge. River let her mind wander ahead of them –

Simon was hurt! She gasped and almost jumped to her feet. Simon was in pain, and the really bad one was with him! She focused and made herself calm down – it wasn't that bad, Simon would be okay. And the captain would be there soon to make sure he didn't get hurt again.

She hesitated a little longer, not sure what to do. She was only one girl, one small, broken girl. She couldn't do anything about armed criminals, except look at the ugliness they had on the inside. She vaguely remembered using a gun once, but she had no idea how she'd done it. It had just… happened.

It'd be best to stay put, she decided. Someone would be coming down before long to check on Jase. But she had a few minutes, at least, and might learn something useful from him.

Deep down, she knew that wasn't why she wanted to stay, not really. But it was a good enough excuse. So she closed her eyes and went looking for his dreams. She'd stay further back this time, so she wouldn't scare him, and not ask any questions.

When she found him, he let her in, showing her things without explaining in words. He didn't need to because his mind was fully open to her. River understood what she saw like they were her own memories, being revealed in short scenes that flashed quickly by.

.*. .*. .*.

_It is the afternoon; young Jase finished his apple dumplings hours ago. He and Ma are play__ing cāi quán. Suddenly, the little house shakes in a blast of wind, and Jase and Ma go running around closing windows and doors against the abrupt arrival of winter. A few minutes later, Pa comes stumbling through the door in a blur of big, fluffy snowflakes. They all laugh at the strange weather, and it makes River smile from the corner where she stands watching. The family feels safe together, in their snug house with all they need stored away._

_They have visitors for the holiday dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Meyers and their three nearly grown children are here. The little house seems smaller and warmer with so many people in it, and River likes it. The children aren't playmates for six year old Jase; they call him a baby. But Uncle Bucky is here too, bringing gifts from the city like he always does. He'll be staying for almost two weeks, though he sleeps at the Meyer's. There's room at Jase's house, but Pa and Bucky don't get along. They never fight, but Jase sees how they talk in short, tense words, and never look directly at each other._

_It's spring and River lets her toes sink into the rich dirt of the furrowed field. The thaw has come early, warm and bright. Jase is just arriving from the barn; he struggles with his thin arms to get the wheelbarrow full of seed out to Pa. He doesn't spill any, and Pa proudly claps him on the shoulder like he's a full grown man, instead of patting his head like he used to. Jase beams. _

_The sun is hot; it is midsummer and Jase, just turned seven, is bringing a full water bottle to Pa. Pa grabs it and drinks, then drops it on the ground. He never says thank you. He is mumbling about the crops:_ How can they be so gorramn sickly?

_Jase knows Pa isn't talking to him, so he just takes the empty bottle back to the house. _

_River climbs the apple tree and watches Ma and Jase gathering ripe apples from the lower branches. Ma is explaining why Pa is grumpy. The crops haven't done well this summer, and with all they have to pay the hired hands there is nothing extra to lay by. But they have enough to get through the winter and do the next spring's planting. Next year everything will be better again. _

_River shares Jase's relief that the long, quiet winter has finally passed, and spring is here with its warm sun. She crouches in the garden and watches him plant seeds, then looks out to Pa in the fields with the ox and the plow. When she turns back to Jase it is midsummer already, and he is pulling weeds around the little plants. He is turning eight today, and Ma is smiling and singing to the garden, even though it doesn't seem to hear anymore. Nothing is growing like it should. _

_Jase follows quietly behind Pa, going to the fields. They can't hire any hands this autumn, but he's old enough to work and that helps. He doesn't talk, because Pa gets mad easy these days. Pa yells when Jase says stupid things, which seems to happen a lot. Ma says Pa is just worried about how they'll get through the winter, worried that they won't have enough. But Ma says not to worry, she's sure they'll be fine. _

_River sits by the house one evening a week later, waiting for Pa and Jase to come back from the fields. The harvest is almost finished. Bucky has just arrived from the city; he comes out the door when he sees Jase approach and picks him up in a big hug. Ma is eager to tell Pa the good news: even in this lean year Bucky has brought them a full side of pork. Pa doesn't look happy, he just asks where his supper is. _

_It is full dark later that night; Bucky has left. River follows Jase outside. They climb the bare apple tree because the look on Pa's face is scary, and they hide there while Pa shouts at Ma, telling her not to be so damned friendly to his brother. He calls her names, bad words that Jase doesn't understand, but River does:_ yāo jing, biăo zi._ Pa also yells about Jase, calls him __húndàn__, and he says Bucky will never visit again. _

_The snow is deep but Pa goes out to visit Mr. Meyer anyway. Ma and Jase stay home as they always do this winter, huddling around the small fire, eating the coarse brown bread that is all they have left. Ma is coughing. She doesn't sing anymore. _

_The air is warm again but the apple tree is barely blooming. Ma hasn't planted the garden; she says she's too tired. Jase is out before sunrise putting in all the seeds he can before Pa calls him to the fields. _

_Jase stops by the garden an hour before sunset. It's been three months since he planted, but nothing ever came up. Only a few trees have leaves; the apple tree is bare, the blooms it had in the spring have withered and died. Jase goes inside to make supper. He always does now, since Ma stays in bed. It's midsummer and he is turning nine today, but no one remembers. _

_Pa doesn't go out harvesting this morning. The autumn fields look bare to Jase, and it doesn't seem that there's much harvesting to do anyway. He figures that Pa's been going out to the fields because he doesn't want to be in the house. But this morning Pa is home, digging a hole under the apple tree to lay Ma in. He isn't letting Jase help. _

_Jase is making supper. Ma's been in the ground for eight days, and Jase hasn't spoken since. Pa doesn't want to talk anyway; he sits at the table like he has every day since Ma died, staring at nothing. _

_Jase starts to sing. It's a sad song that Ma used to sing sometimes. Jase thinks it's about Ma's home planet and her family, about how she misses them. He thinks that now it'll be about how he misses her. River knows the song, knows that it's really about a woman pining over her lover. She sits down at the table, right next to Pa, and listens. _

Fŏng chuī laí di shā  
Chuān guò suŏ yoŭ de jì yì  
Sheí doū zhī daò wŏ zaì xiăng nĭ.

_Pa never says a word, but he stands up and takes two steps across the room and punches Jase. Then he pick__s the boy up and punches him again. When Jase hits the floor the second time, he tries to scramble away, to crawl under the table. Pa pulls him out, flips him onto his back and kneels beside him, fist raised. River tries to grab Pa's arm to stop him, but her hands pass right through. She's forgotten that she isn't really here, she can't help. _

_But the third punch doesn't fall. Pa opens his fist and drops it, then stands up and backs away. He turns, grabs his coat and slams the front door on his way out._

What'd I do wrong? _Jase is thinking, over and over, as he sits against the wall and feels blood drip over his chin. He touches his nose – it really hurts, and it's bent a little. River tries to comfort him, but he has forgotten she's there. She understands: he's reliving things he'd done his best to forget, and gotten so deeply buried in his own story that he can't see her anymore. _

_But now River knows who Pa is; she recognized his rage. _

_The door slams open and Pa comes back in. It's been three days since he left. For three days Jase has tried to keep house and cook and live like normal; he doesn't know what else to do. Pa pulls his boots off, builds the fire higher and sits down at the table. He doesn't look up at Jase, doesn't look at the black eyes and swollen nose. He just sits where he was before it happened. _

_After a while, he says that supper should be on the table soon, and he goes to wash up. _

_River doesn't recognize the yard behind the house. It's spring, but there's no green. The shape of the land looks different now that the grass is gone. Jase is standing by Ma's grave, the dead apple tree beside him. He has a pack on his back because Pa says it's time to leave. Jase is thin; the winter was hard. They had to kill the ox and eat it or they'd have starved. _

_Jase has learned not to sing when Pa is around, and not to speak in Ma's language. He's learned it's best not to talk at all, unless he has to. _

_He doesn't cry to be leaving home; his home is dead and gone already. Besides, Pa says that Jase is almost ten, and in times like these a ten year old has to be a man. He has to hold his own or he'll dry up and die just like the trees and the grass. Just like Ma. _

_Pa comes out of the house. He stands beside Jase, and he says that he isn't Jase's Pa anymore, that now Jase should call him Ray. They are two men doing whatever they need to stay alive in the hard times that have come. But Ray is the boss and Jase better be smart and do as he's told. Jase nods._

_River stays behind, standing by Ma's grave and watching the two of them start across the barren field. Ray is still talking, saying that they're lucky to be less than a week's walk from the city. They can make it with what little food they have left, and they'll be able to get work there. Ray says a man can always get by in the city, if he's willing to try hard and live frugal and take the jobs as they come. But it won't be easy._

_River sees the set of young Jase's shoulders. She knows that he doesn't mean to let Ray down._

.*. .*. .*.

Jase's eyes opened, and he looked up at River. She touched his forehead again, then ran a finger along the bridge of his nose.

"You're wrong about how you look," she said.

He didn't talk, but she felt his question.

"It's only a tiny bit crooked where it broke. Makes you looked rugged. Very handsome."

He smiled faintly, and his hand tightened a little in hers.

River heard footsteps and voices in the distance, behind the infirmary and getting closer. Gently, she set his hand down before she stood and turned to dash up the stairs.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
dì yù: hell  
cāi quán: a finger-guessing game  
yāo jing: alluring woman  
biăo zi: whore  
húndàn: bastard

Fŏng chuī laí di shā  
Chuān guò suŏ yoŭ de jì yì  
Sheí doū zhī daò wŏ zaì xiăng nĭ.

The sand that is blown by the wind  
Covers happy memories.  
Everyone knows that I am missing you.

- from Kū shā (Crying Sand) by Tracy Huang

* * *

Chapter 12.

Xiaojun set a capture screen on the table in front of Kaylee. It showed a much younger version of the Chinese woman, standing on a wooden deck. Young Xiaojun smiled and waved hello, then proudly gestured at the landscape behind her. It was a green hillside, sloping down to a scattering of trees along a sparkling river. The capture zoomed in on a large, well-ordered garden just beyond the deck, and young Xiaojun's arm entered the image, pointing at various groupings of plants. Her recorded voice described the garden's layout.

Old Xiaojun turned down the volume so it wouldn't interfere. "Should have seen my home Before," she told Kaylee. "So pretty! See here, my garden. Féi wò! Grew all we need for all year. Look, blueberries! Buckets and buckets. This is patio out front of cave home, when we just finish making it. Fēng guāng, hmm? Very pretty land. Little river pass through valley, with many shù mù, tall and make cool shade, bright colors in fall. Field here so green and many wildflowers, chà zĭ yān hóng. Zhenya, my husband that was – see him there? Very handsome! – he cut grass near home, let far field grow wild. He love outside. Die along with all the green. Not meant to live without green. Me, I have toys to fix. Keep me living way too long! Ha! More tea? No? Okay. It was something, Before. Too bad you not see. All different now, biàn. Had to take down patio. Need to hide now. Should not catch eye of strangers. Not all as nice as you…"

Kaylee tried to look like she was interested. She wanted to be polite, at least to make up for Jayne, who was sitting across from them, rolling his eyes, sighing loudly, and fidgeting. But Kaylee's mind kept going elsewhere. She was thinking about the captain, and about Simon and River and Book. She wondered if Zoë and Wash had made any progress; after talking to Ziaojun, they'd gone back outside, saying they needed to discuss their options. Or maybe Wash was just trying to get Zoë to cool down.

"…seem like all nice people go away. A few still here, but not visit so often. Not safe you know, to travel around. No law. No zhì ān. Alliance would bring law, zhí fă, would not let dăi Cartel kill world. Alliance should come fix world."

"You _want_ the Alliance here?" Kaylee asked, startled out of her reverie by words she didn't hear often.

Xiaojun sat up straight, her voice growing louder. "Better than tān lán Cartel. They want money, do not care about any other thing. You wonder why terraform fail here? Hmm? And don't fail where Alliance in control? I know. I figure out. Is because it cost too much to keep going. Cartel decide it is cheaper to let everything die, huài shì. You don't believe me, you should!

"I know Alliance do bad things, but they have laws. And some laws are for good."

.*. .*. .*.

Wash leaned against the hovercraft, trying to stay quiet and not interfere with Zoë's pace-like-a-caged-lioness-and-think time. He could see the rage she barely held in check; he saw it in the way her shoulders were pulled up and forward, her face frozen, her steps measured out. He knew it grated on her to have to hold it back, to keep herself calm so she could think.

There was a decent amount of light for him to watch her by, since the sun still shone on a large portion of the rings. Wash looked up at the sky, suddenly realizing that there never would be total darkness here. The planet's shadow would cover the center part of the rings at midnight, but there would still be the bright sections rising like impossibly tall curved skyscrapers from the eastern and western horizons.

He looked at his wife again. She was still pacing, her eyes on the ground, her mind too busy to waste time on the pretty sky view. That made him feel guilty. There had to be a way he could help. Maybe just talking it out…

"Okay," he said. "Xiaojun has nothing. But we can head back to the city."

"And that helps how?" Zoë snapped. Wash reminded himself that she wasn't snapping at him. Not really. He kept his voice calm.

"Maybe there's a ship we can hire."

"If it were that easy, I'm thinkin' people wouldn't be takin' a bullet to the head tryin' to get at ours."

"So…" Wash pushed away from the mule, scratching his forehead as he thought. "We need to reach Inara."

"You know the comms ain't set to talk to the shuttle."

"Then we contact the Cartel where she's staying."

Zoë stopped pacing and looked at him pointedly. "I never talked to her before she left."

Wash's stomach suddenly felt heavy. "Oh."

Zoë crossed her arms in front of her. "You didn't ask?"

"She always goes her own way. It didn't occur to me… "

Wash stopped when Zoë took a deep breath, but there was no explosion. Maybe she just needed a moment for the _oh shit_ feeling to settle down. He sure did.

Finally, she joined him by the hovercraft, leaning against it. Her shoulders slumped like she was admitting defeat.

"So what do we do?" she asked. "Sit round and drink tea till Inara comes to find us? Hope _Serenity_ left us a trail of breadcrumbs to follow?"

Her questions were answered by an electronic voice.

_Whoever's listening: I've got myself a Firefly complete with captain, doctor, and old man. How much do you care if I start killing?_

Zoë and Wash shared a frozen look, then Zoë dug into her pocket.

_It'll be real slow and painful, and, to be frank, none of them are in the best of shape right now anyway…_

Zoë finally got the comm in her hand. "They alive?" she asked.

_For now. Would this be the dark-skinned Amazon? _

"You ought'a try askin' that to my face."

_I mean it as a compliment; I'm all admiration. _The man let his chuckle carry over the comm.

"Let me speak to my people."

_I don't think you understand the situation, princess. I want your cute little mechanic, with the parts she went to buy, the ones to fix the grav drive. Have her at the site where your ship was parked, thirty minutes. _

"Pardon, but I don't think I'll be handin' her over."

_Fine. I'll start with the old man, I have no use for a preacher. Have her there in thirty minutes, ready to fix this wú yòng ship, or I'll throw him out the airlock. One piece at a time. _

Zoë didn't respond, and the man didn't speak again.

.*. .*. .*.

When she heard Zoë burst into the cavern, Kaylee sat up eagerly, hoping for good news. But Zoë's face didn't look like anything she had to say would be cheery. She pulled out a chair, sat down, and looked at the mechanic glumly. Her manner was enough to startle Xiaojun into silence.

"What?" Kaylee asked hesitantly.

"Someone just called down from the ship."

"That's good, right?" Kaylee glanced over around at Jayne, who was tight-lipped. Not good, then. "Who?" Kaylee asked.

"I don't know." Zoë sighed, then looked Kaylee in the eye. "He wants you up there to fix the grav drive."

"Me? But… how'd they know bout me?"

Zoë glanced at Wash. "We wondered that too. Whoever these people are, they knew we were comin' out here, lookin' for a part for the grav drive. It had to be the kid in the shop this mornin'. Your little buddy set us up."

Kaylee's mouth dropped open, then closed again. "Oh. But… he seemed so _nice_."

"Nice or not, they want you up there to fix the ship, or they'll start killin'."

"Killin'?"

"They'll start with Book." Zoë's eyes flicked over Jayne when he shifted in his seat. He looked like he was ready to skin someone.

"Shepherd Book?" Kaylee asked. "But he's a preacher!"

"The man said they don't need him."

"But… but Book's okay now? Simon and the cap'n and River, too?"

"The man could'a been lyin', but he said they're alive. Cept he didn't mention River at all."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jayne asked.

"They may not have found her. The girl has a way of disappearin' when she wants to."

Kaylee took a deep breath, trying to force herself to be calm. "Okay, so I gotta go fix the ship. I can do that. Do it all the time." Her face set in determination and she looked at Zoë. "Tell em I'm comin'. Got the servo right here, see?" Kaylee picked up a small part from the table. "I can go. Right now."

Kaylee started to stand up, but Zoë stopped her. "Hang on, we need to sort some things out. I need to know everything you remember bout that kid."

Kaylee sat back down, holding the servo in her hand while she thought. "Well… but… " She turned to Xiaojun, who was looking at the capture screen with a wistful smile. "Xiaojun, lăo dà mā, you know the boy who told us bout you, right?"

"Boy? Oh, you mean Jase!" Xiaojun's face lit up. "Ahh - such a nice boy. Loves my tea. Used to come visit, sit for hours, so polite. Hé qi tóng. Ask about my toys and help fix. Talk in Chinese too, not a lot do here anymore, you know. Ask about the old days, about Before, when Zhenya still alive and we have shù mù and garden and – "

"Please, lady," Zoë interrupted. "We need to know more about him, bout this Jase."

Kaylee straightened suddenly. "He said somethin' about a 'Ray.' Do you know Ray?"

"Oh. Ray. Oh - mmm." The woman hooked her hands over one knee and rocked back, looking away and continuing to make mm-mmm sounds in the back of her throat.

"You know him?" Kaylee prompted hopefully.

Xiaojun nodded once, then shook her head. "Bad man. Very, very bad man."

"Why… why d'ya say that?"

The woman sat forward again. "This Ray – Ray Whittaker his name, he come get boy once, slam door open and yell and make fuss, like boy not allowed to come here." Xiaojun leaned toward Kaylee and spoke low. "And then – I go by door, listen after he take Jase outside – Ray say how he hate Chinese. Can you believe? Do not want to hear boy speak own language! And hit him, too. Hit him! Chuí!" She took a deep breath and held it for a second with her lips pursed, then she let it out and shook her head sadly. "Jase come back after that, but not so much, not for long. Always nervous, tí xīn diào dăn. Such a nice boy."

Kaylee bit her lip. With a shock she remembered the man she'd seen talking to Jase in the dockyard, the good looking one, wearing all black. He'd smiled all pretty when she greeted him, even though he must have been busy plotting to steal _Serenity_. He probably sent the boy in to talk to her, to use her to set them all up.

"This Ray," Kaylee asked, "was he kinda tan in the face, dark brown hair, strong lookin'?"

"No, no. You think of someone else. Ray is skin and bones, look all faded, like bad spirits live inside, eat up all the flesh and leave nothing."

Zoë leaned toward Xiaojun. "Do you know anything else about these folks?"

The woman began rocking again, making humming noises as she thought. Then she suddenly sat up straight and looked at Zoë sharply. "Why you want to know? You out to get Jase?"

Kaylee answered before Zoë could. "No! Not at all! They just... they took our ship. Probably this Ray, and… and other folks we don't know. They have our captain and our friends."

Xiaojun swept her doubtful look back and forth between Kaylee and Zoë.

"Really, we ain't lyin'!" Kaylee insisted. "I hafta go fix the grav drive or they'll kill the Shepherd! They'll kill a preacher!"

The old woman relaxed, then leaned over to pat Kaylee's knee. "Need minute to think. Not so quick to remember as I was long time ago." She tapped her own head with a fingertip and smiled. "Hūn ăo."

Xiaojun gathered the tea cups and set them in her little kitchen, then wondered off into her mammoth workshop, humming tunelessly.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë pulled her timepiece out of her pocket and checked it, squinting in the dim light of the cavern.

"I'm givin' her one more minute, then we gotta go," she told Kaylee. "I ain't riskin' that the man's clock runs fast. The Shepherd ain't gonna die on account of us bein' a little late."

"Don't see why we're waitin' at all," Jayne said. "Ain't nothin' else to be had here but a lotta hot air."

"He does have a point," Wash said.

Zoë looked to Xiaojun, who was sorting through a box in her workshop. "All right," Zoë decided, "let's go."

They all stood up, but Xiaojun came running out and caught up with them at the door. "Wait wait! I help, bāng zhù, see?" The old woman held up a small metal disk.

"This for you," she told Kaylee. "Put inside shoe, no one see you have it. When you need, get out and flip switch on edge here. Need one minute for charge up. Then hold in hand like this, touch blue strip to bad person, and Zap! Out like light. Dŏng ma?"

Zoë gave an impressed tilt of her head and Kaylee started reaching for the disk, but Xiaojun pulled it back.

"You use on dăi man, on Ray, not Jase, okay?"

"Okay," Kaylee replied with a nod, and Xiaojun handed the disk over. Then the woman turned to Zoë.

"Big strong woman, they will not let you go to ship, will they?"

"No, they won't."

"Here's what you do. Go to town, I draw map here, see? Is Cartel compound. Guard at gate, but all are lazy and greedy these days. Give a little money, măi tōng, you will get by. Go see man inside – he will help get ship back. His name Bucky. Can you remember? Bucky."

Zoë studied the map, then looked at the woman doubtfully. "Bucky? Are you serious?"

"Is his name! Tell all about Ray and Jase, okay? You tell him that, tell him I send you. Bucky will help. You must do this. You must go."

Zoë took the map and thanked the woman, though she didn't agree or disagree with the 'must' part. Kaylee gave Xiaojun a hug and a warmer thank you before they left.

"You be careful! Zĭ xì!" Xiaojun called after them. "Bad, bad people on this world! Very sneaky!"

.*. .*. .*.

The night air had a chill when they returned to the valley. Zoë checked her pocket watch again, then there was nothing to be done but wait.

A few minutes later a shuttle settled out of the sky, landing a good fifty meters from them. The hatch opened, though no one was visible inside and no one came out. Kaylee reluctantly left the hovercraft. She looked small against the dark, empty landscape as she crossed the space alone.

"I ain't likin' this," Jayne said in a growl, gripping his gun tight and glowering at the shuttle.

"No one is, Jayne," Zoë replied. "We got no choice." She glanced at Wash, who put a comforting hand on her arm.

Kaylee looked back at them one more time before she stepped through the hatch. It closed behind her, and the remaining three watched silently as the shuttle powered off the ground and disappeared into the night.

"All right," Zoe said with a heavy sigh. "Let's go see bout this Bucky fella."

.*. .*. .*.

When Mal finally activated the ship's internal gravity, he was watching Ray out of the corner of his eye. He had hoped to catch the húndàn unaware and give him a few bruises. Unfortunately for that plan, an automatic delay had been programmed into the system. An alarm sounded and a recorded voice warned about the imminent return of verticality. Ray was able to get his feet under him in time.

The grav kicked in, and crashes echoed throughout the ship as the few things not tied down returned to the deck.

"Guess I just know my girl!" Mal said as he climbed to his feet. "You'll want to be careful, though – could go out again anytime."

Ray appeared to take that as a threat. He tensed. "Then you'll just have to fix it again."

"Only if you ask real nice." Mal smiled sweetly.

For a few seconds, Mal thought he had gone too far and was about to get shot, but then Ray shook his head and leaned back against the side of the hatch. He looked hard at the captain.

"What?" Mal asked, all innocence.

"I'm just wonderin' how you can be so sure I won't start breakin' bones. Startin' with the ones you don't need so much, and movin' on from there."

Mal outdid Ray's casual pose, leaning against the end of the engine with his elbow set on the lever that protruded from it. He knew his attitude had passed out-of-hand long ago, but despite River's message and the continuing ache of his beat-up face, he just couldn't make himself take this whole thing seriously. Āi yā, he'd been jumping at his own gorram shadow for more than a week, and now that he finally had himself some real mortal danger, he couldn't seem to care.

"Ray, I guess I seen enough that I can't worry over it anymore," he said. "You do whatever you need to do. I won't cower in front of you. You ain't worth it."

Ray's response wasn't what Mal expected. The man gave Mal a look like he understood, like he maybe agreed, then he took a step back and motioned with the gun for Mal to proceed him down the corridor.

The only person on the bridge when Mal and Ray returned was Will, sitting in the pilot's seat, hands sliding over the controls as if he were reviewing what he knew. He heard them enter and turned around, and Mal saw his swollen nose, blood on his upper lip and chin, and bruises forming under both eyes.

"I like it, Willy," Mal said, waving a finger toward his own nose to make his meaning clear. "It's a good look for you."

Will glowered but didn't take the bait.

"Where's Ginger and the doc?" Ray asked from behind Mal.

"Ginger's running a little errand. Doc, well, he got stupid."

Ray pushed Mal to the front of the bridge so he could keep an eye on him while he swore at Will, "Gorammit, if you killed him, you won't be breathin' long yourself."

"Relax, he's fine. He just took a bit of a fall when the grav came on." He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. Mal realized there was labored breathing coming from the far side of the console. He cast a dark look at Will, then slipped into the narrow space in the nose of the ship.

Simon was laying on the deck, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around his middle. Mal knelt beside him

"Simon, you all right?" he asked softly.

"Just bruises… possibly a cracked rib or two," Simon replied in a forced voice. "I managed to throw up that way, though," he waved toward the front of the small space. "I don't think I got it all over me."

Mal smiled. "Knowin' how to puke properly is one of the first lessons of zero G, Doc. Congrats, you're a natural."

Simon started to laugh at that, then clutched his torso tighter at the pain.

"If it's any comfort, you broke his nose."

"Did I?"

"Yeah, he looks almost as good as me."

Simon lifted his head and focused on Mal's bruised face. "Oh. I'm sorry… I should have done something about that, could have helped the bruising – "

"Come on, Doc, stay with me. You ain't had much chance of that, remember?"

Simon dropped his head, then nodded. "Right."

"Can ya move?"

"There's only one way to find out."

Mal helped Simon up and led him to the co-pilot's chair. Ray was watching them, and not looking pleased with the doctor's condition.

"Will, can I leave you alone with anyone without you makin' em useless to me?" Ray asked.

"Do you see my face?" Will snapped. "He attacked me. It was self-defense."

"Mal," Simon said softly, "she went to get Kaylee."

Mal felt his stomach drop. "What are you talkin' about?"

"That woman, Ginger. They talked to Zoë about Kaylee fixing the ship, and Ginger took the shuttle down to get her."

Mal turned on Will, who was now standing next to Ray behind the pilot's seat. "You don't need a mechanic. I fixed it!"

Will grinned, happy to confirm Simon's news. Or maybe happy about Mal's response to it. "Too late now, she's on her way. And once we have her, I'm thinking that we won't have much use for you anymore." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Although – it is possible I'll find more than one use for her."

Without a thought as to whether it was a good idea, Mal took a long step across the bridge and tackled Will, slamming him into the lockers before they both tumbled to the deck. Mal kept Will pinned down and repeatedly drove his right fist into the man's side, not stopping until a hand slid under his chin to pull his head back, and the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple.

Mal wasn't so far gone as to miss the message. He held his hands out to the side, palms forward, to show that he was in control. But it took a few deep breaths before he recalled the details of the situation. It wasn't exactly funny, but he laughed at it anyway.

"Go on and have a seat," Ray ordered, giving Mal a hard shove toward the pilot's seat.

Mal laughed again as he pulled himself into the chair, short and forced and with a edge of _not right_ to it that even he could hear. No, there was definitely nothing funny about this.

He heard Ray telling Simon, "Find somethin' to tie him up with, fore I lose my temper and shoot him."

Simon stammered in reply, "I… I don't know…"

"Just do what I say!" Ray snapped. "Gorramit, why does everythin' on this ship gotta be so damn complicated!"

Mal nearly doubled over in the chair; he couldn't make the laughing stop. "I feel for you, Ray," he managed to say. "Really, I know exactly how you feel."

Apparently, that was all Ray could take. He took a step toward Mal and put the gun right up to his head again, then he looked at Simon. "If he ain't tied up in one minute, I _will_ blow his brains all over this crappy ship and let the job be damned."

The force of the gun made Mal's head tilt to the side, and suddenly he didn't feel like laughing anymore. Suddenly he wanted to crawl into his bunk and sleep. Sleep for a very long time. He watched Simon push himself to his feet and look around the bridge in confusion.

"Third locker, Doc," Mal said in a quiet voice. "There's some cargo rope in there."

Simon looked at Mal and nodded. He had to step over Will to get into the lockers; the man was still laying in front of them in a pose similar to the one Mal had found Simon in.

Mal took a deep breath, but it wasn't enough. Reality was catching up, and it was a bitch. These bastards had walked onto his ship and started beating his people. Started beating him. If River hadn't kept herself clear of it and worked her distractions, he'd most like be dead by now. And they were bringing Kaylee into it. It was real, and he couldn't stop it. Here on the bridge of his own gorram ship, he couldn't do a thing.

But there was something in Ray, something he might be able to reach. Mal looked up the gun barrel, found the man watching him.

"Ray," he said, "you need to know that if any hurt is done to my mechanic, I'll be feelin' a lot like you did bout that boy." He paused until he saw understanding in Ray's eyes. "None a' yours better lay a hand on her less you mean to kill me, or die yourself. Dŏng ma?"

Mal waited for a reaction that didn't come, but he held Ray's stare while Simon bound him to the chair.

.*. .*. .*.

Ray pulled Will through the hatch just outside the bridge. Will was holding his left side, not recovered enough to be properly mad, but it was coming on quick. Ray saw it, and he pushed Will back against the bulkhead.

Will winced in pain. "Ow! What the dì yù– "

"Shut up and listen," Ray snapped, keeping his voice low enough not to carry into the bridge. "You have got to get it in control."

"I'll be in control, right after I rip his damn head off!"

Ray shoved him against the wall again, this time grabbing his shirt to hold him there. "Do I have to beat sense into you? You ain't here to kill, and you sure as hell ain't here to mess with some girl. You're here to fly this thing. That's the only reason I brought you into this, and you screwed it up. Now, I need that captain or we'll be stuck on this world, with no transport to the Core and no payday. You so much as touch him, or any of them, and we will have a problem tween us. You got it?"

Will was opening his mouth to answer when Ginger's voice sounded over the comm.

_Will, you there? I got the girl, comin' in to dock._

Ray didn't look into the bridge; he wanted to sort this out before moving on.

"You're gonna stay up here," he told Will. "Sit tight – watch over the captain but _do not_ touch him, while the girl fixes the engine and the doc fixes Jase. You're gonna stay cool, you hear me?"

Will's face screwed up in a grimace, but somehow it shifted into a smile.

"Not a problem, Ray. Cool as can be. Don't you worry about a thing. Just take care of your boy."

Ray let Will go. He looked at the man's smile with distrust, but there wasn't anything else he could do. It briefly occurred to him that he could send Will with the doc and stay on the bridge himself, but he dismissed that idea without further thought.

"Boy ain't mine," he muttered as he turned back to the bridge.

The captain was tied up now, facing out the front of the ship. The doctor stood nearby, still looking pained. Ray stubbornly found the comm himself, instead of asking the doc for instruction. He replied to Ginger in a tired voice.

"Come on in, and get the girl straight to the engine room. I want this thing fixed so we can get on with it."

Ray took Simon's arm and gave him a push toward the hatch. "You got a job to finish, Doc." He didn't say a word to Will on the way out.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal ignored the discussion going on behind him, and didn't look up when Ray stood beside him to use the comm. He just stared out at the half-shadowed planetary rings and the Black beyond until the echoes of Simon and Ray's departure faded.

He was trying to make himself breathe deep and slow, but his lungs didn't seem to be holding enough air. It wasn't the ropes; Simon hadn't tied them tight. Mal could have easily worked himself free if he was alone, but he wasn't. He could hear the small sounds of Will standing in the hatch behind him. Probably watching. Definitely planning.

No, it sure as hell wasn't the ropes. The pressure was coming from inside his chest, pouring up out of some deep place like a ruttin' O_2_ tank that sprung a leak. Worry, ill-ease, the feeling of a hard blow about to land any second now – it was back, and worse than it'd been before all this crap went down. Something was bad, everything was bad, and he couldn't do a thing about it. Couldn't control what was happening on his ship, couldn't make his breathing slow down, couldn't get away from this fear that gnawed at him from the inside.

Zhòu mà, he wished that feeling of distance would come back. Now was the time for a healthy bout of denial, not a fēng zi panic attack.

He almost smiled at that, but then he heard a few quiet steps behind him, approaching. The ropes begin to tighten. Will passed around the front of the chair, checking the knots, and he looked at Mal with his mouth stretched in an eager toothy smile, like he knew a secret that he couldn't wait to tell.

Mal didn't ask. He thought he might be sidling up to some kind of edge inside himself, and trading smart-ass insults with this sadistic bastard was like to push him over. He returned to staring out at the Black.

Will finished with the bindings. He stood still behind the chair for a moment, quietly busy at something. Mal caught just a glimpse of a rolled up bandana as it came down in front of his face, then it was pulled hard between his teeth and knotted behind his head. It tasted like dust and sweat, then it started tasting like the bile that was rising in his throat.

Will sat down in the co-pilot's seat, and Mal didn't need to look to know that the man was still grinning, enjoying his game. The silence stretched, and the pressure inside Mal slowly increased. He had to struggle to pull short, shallow breaths around the gag; the lack of oxygen was making his head spin, and the colorful rings outside the windows began to blur.

Finally, Will stood up and walked over to half-sit on the console in front of Mal, smiling like it was his damn birthday. After a bit, he leaned forward and spoke in a whisper.

"Hey, Mal. I have an idea…"

He paused a bit, letting Mal imagine what the idea might be. Mal clenched his fists at his sides to control his response. He was beginning to see dark spots, blotches in his vision. The gag had sucked all of the moisture out of his mouth and he couldn't swallow. He was barely hanging on, and Will had to know it. The man didn't wait much longer before he drew a knife out of his belt and thumbed the edge of the blade. He glanced up to make sure that Mal was looking at the knife.

"No," he said with a smile. "This isn't my idea. But I like how you think."

He leaned to his side, and through a cloud of black blooms Mal saw him set the blade against a cord running to a lamp on the console, then he yanked up on the cord to slice it loose.

Will jumped to his feet with a cry of pain and dropped both knife and cord. The live current had carried through the blade and handle into his hand.

"Nĭ tā mā de tiānxià suŏyoŭ de rén doū!" he swore in a tight voice, shaking his stung hand briskly.

Mal should have thought that was funny.

He didn't.

When Will turned back and saw Mal watching him, the grimace on his face turned into a gleeful smile.

"Whoo-ie," he hooted, playing the cowboy for his audience. "That smarts! I tell ya – this is gonna be a bucket a'fun!"

_Okay, so that's what it is,_ Mal thought. It should have calmed him to know. He'd been through this before, and he'd gotten by with a smile on his face. Well, something like a smile. So how come if he wasn't tied to this chair he'd be on the floor right now, curled up and wailing like a baby with a lost binky? What the hell had happened to his nerve?

Will, still cackling, bent down to pick up the cut cord. Mal closed his eyes, trying to get away from this suffocating dread. Then something came into Mal's darkness that had no business being there. Not in the place this bridge had become. Inara's voice.

At first, all Mal could hear was the comfort in it, the warmth and light of Inara Serra. As much as the gorram woman could vex him, hearing her now was like seeing a lifeline hanging at his fingertips, and he wanted like hell to grab hold. But her voice was gone quickly. He realized that it'd come from outside his head, and that she had spoken words. He had to replay it in his mind to work it out.

_Serenity, this is Shuttle One._

Mal's breath caught and his eyes flew open. Her voice – she sounded tired, shaken. Then she was speaking again and he could listen more carefully.

_Serenity? Do you read? My appointment was… cut short. I'm on my way in to dock._

The words were ordinary, but she sounded done in, near tears. There was a long pause, and when she spoke again, there was a hint of accusation in her voice.

_Mal? Is that you? _

Mal remembered that Will was watching and looked up. The húndàn's smile was bigger than ever, and Mal knew that his fear was showing in his face. He couldn't put it away. He couldn't put this kĕ pà feeling away.

Will sat back on the console again. "Mal?" he asked brightly. "First name? No 'Captain, Sir?'"

_Of course it's you. It's the middle of the night – you took over the helm for Wash. _

Her voice was turning angry, but the words ended with a faint sniff. Mal heard it clearly now: Inara Serra was crying into a silent comm, like she was unhinged. Like she was carrying the same kind of weight that was crushing him. What the hell had happened…

"Why, this must be your woman!" Will said cheerfully. "She sure sounds nice."

_You're sitting there, listening, aren't you? I know the comm is live. I know you're there. _

She thought that he'd really do this to her, ignore her when she was so upset. Hell, she wasn't far wrong. There'd been plenty of times he'd been just such a bastard to her.

_Damnit Mal! I… I'm very tired. I'm not going to play these games with you. Just let me know you're there. _

"I do believe I have a new idea," Will said.

Mal couldn't hold his head up, and began to hunch over himself. He saw the severed cord fall to the deck at his feet.

_You must be loving this. Fine. It didn't work out, all right? I'm not leaving. You were right. _

Mal could barely breathe. He knew Will was watching him wither; he knew the man liked it.

"Not leaving?" Will snickered. "That's sweet. Is she sweet, Mal?"

_Gods, are you there?_

Will leaned forward to stick his swollen, bloody nose in Mal's face. His voice lowered to a whisper again. "Is she hot? Fun to play with?"

_Could you just acknowledge me? _

Inara's voice broke; it was a plea, not an order.

Will leaned closer, his cheek almost touching Mal's, and he whispered in Mal's ear so softly that it was barely audible. "Do you think she'll scream?"

_Fine. _

Her voice was firm again, but harsh. Forced.

_I'll be docking in ten minutes. Don't bother me. Ever. _

Will picked up his knife from the console and put it back in the leather sheath on his belt. "I'll let you know how it goes," he said, and he patted Mal's shoulder on the way out.

A few seconds later, Will came back and picked up the cut electrical cord.

"Aw, hell," he said, "I have ten minutes."

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
féi wò: fertile  
fēng guāng: natural scenic view  
shù mù: trees  
chà zĭ yān hóng: brilliant purples and reds  
biàn: to change  
zhì ān: public security  
zhí fă: law enforcement  
dăi: evil  
tān lán: greedy  
huài shì: to ruin something; to spoil  
wú yòng: worthless  
lăo dà mā: Madam (affectionate term for an elderly woman)  
hé qi tóng: polite, friendly boy  
chuí: beat with the fist  
tí xīn diào dăn: to be very scared and on edge  
hūn ăo: forgetful old woman  
bāng zhù: assistance  
dŏng ma: understand?  
măi tōng: to bribe  
zĭ xì: careful; cautious  
hún dàn: bastard  
āi yā: damn  
dì yù: hell  
zhòu mà: damn  
fēng zi: lunatic  
nĭ tā mā de tiānxià suŏyoŭ de rén doū: Fuck everyone in the universe to death  
kĕ pà: horrible


	5. Part 5 of 9

**Easy Tickets: Part 5/9 (Chapters 13-15)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

* * *

**Chapter 13.**

_From a distance, the planetary rings of Niflheim are a series of solid tan-gray disks separated by dark gaps. They appear smooth and uniform, and infinitesimally thin. _

_Up close, they are much more complicated. This is true of all ring systems, but Niflheim's rings have a few particular traits which make them of value to the human race; these characteristics are a result of Niflheim's unique history. _

_Most planetary rings are found around planets much more massive than Niflheim, and result from strong tidal forces that may prevent a new moon from forming in the proto-planetary cloud. Or, the tidal forces may actually tear apart an existing moon which has come too close to the planet's surface. Niflheim was never weighty enough to wield such power; it received its adornment through a cosmic accident._

_Eons ago, while the planet was in its infancy, it had a single small moon. That changed when a massive comet wondered in from the outer reaches of the solar system. It was caught in the planet's gravity, settling into a tilted, highly elliptical orbit. It was only a matter of time before the comet and the moon were more intimately acquainted._

_In the collision, the hard, crystalline nucleus of the comet was jarred hard enough to shed its outer layers of snow and ice, but, though fractured, the nucleus held together and was deflected into a more circular orbit. The effect on the structurally weak moon, however, was devastating. It shattered, leaving a cloud of rock that blended with the cometary ice, swarming about the planet. Any large remnants of the moon were soon pulverized to bits in the violent jostling of the debris. Countless meteors burned through the planet's thin, corrosive atmosphere, many crashing into the lifeless surface, but a majority of the debris stayed in orbit. _

_Things quieted after a time, as the particles on collision courses, by necessity, settled their differences. The remnants of the moon and the outer layers of the comet broke down and blended, and the cloud gradually settled into a disk a mere 100 meters thick, though it was nearly as wide as the planetary radius. _

_It was a rare event to have planetary rings form around such a small planet, but the real oddity of Niflheim came in the fate of the cometary nucleus. It spiraled around the outer reaches of the system, venturing closer from time to time to careen through the outer portion of the settling debris field. The impacts involved in these visits had an effect on the nucleus, continually deepening the cracks formed during the original collision with the moon. Eventually, the nucleus was hit in just the right spot, and it fractured into smaller pieces. _

_This process continued, and over the ages the nucleus was worn away to nothing but fragments, and the outer portion of the rings were filled with shards and dust of the crystalline material. _

_The ice and snow in the rings was kept clean as continual small impacts scraped away dust that might have darkened them. Because of this, the inner rings shone in bright tans and grays, slightly colored by the rubble of the moon. The crystals in the outer rings, however, refracted sunlight, and they shimmered like jewels. It was this feature that would catch the eyes of human explorers when they finally made their way out to this corner of the verse. _

.*. .*. .*.

Inara turned off the cortex display. The ride from _Serenity_ to the Cartel platform wouldn't take long, but she needed to keep her mind occupied. The time for doubt had passed; she had to focus on the client she was about to meet in person for the first time.

She stood up and walked into the shuttle's head to check her reflection. It didn't seem possible that her face could look so fresh and flawless; hours of misery should leave a mark. But Guild cosmetics could work wonders, and her sleeplessness didn't show.

She'd just finished an unbearably long four hours, carefully positioned in her bed to protect herself if _Serenity_'s internal gravity went out while the ship was on approach to Niflheim. Inara had been unable to sleep, her mind too busy to let her body rest. She'd gone over and over the conversation with Mal, recalling her hasty decision to travel to the Core with her client, and Mal's bitter response when she told him she was leaving. Then, finally, she decided to go directly to meet her client without talking to the crew about her plans.

An alarm chimed in the cockpit and she turned away from the mirror. The shuttle was nearing the orbital platform where her client waited: Petrovsky Balder Skuld, heir to the Skuld Cartel, a mid-sized corporation with aspirations of greatness. Peter: light-hearted and boyish and eager to have a Registered Companion join him on his voyage to the Core.

It was the suddenness of her leave-taking that was making it so difficult, she reasoned as she went to the pilot's seat. Sometime in the next day or two, she would come back to return the shuttle, and then she'd spend a few hours saying proper goodbyes. It would be hard, breaking the news on everyone so abruptly. But it would be harder if she stayed on _Serenity_ any longer.

She contacted the platform's traffic control and guided the shuttle into the specified dock, faintly aware that she was working to bring a pleasant smile to her face. Usually it was natural, requiring no effort, but now there was a weight in her chest that wouldn't leave. It dragged her body and mind down, making it difficult to move, to smile, to breathe.

Peter was waiting to meet her at the dock, his curly blonde hair looking darker than it had over the cortex, but his smile was just as bright. He greeted her like an old friend, grasping her hands and placing light kisses on both cheeks.

"Miss Serra, my goodness. Look at you, even prettier in person."

She sighed with relief at his artless cheer and felt her plastic smile turn real. Converstion free of half-hidden barbs and double entendres was exactly what she needed.

"As are you, Peter."

Her words weren't a fib. His boyishness didn't apply to his body; he was strongly but gracefully built, wearing tailored clothing with a slightly unfamiliar cut: the most recent Core fashion, she suspected, realizing that she hadn't been keeping up with the trends. Life on _Serenity_ had been keeping her far from many things that had once been so familiar.

He took her arm to lead her off of the platform. She hesitated, looking back at the bags inside her shuttle.

"The servants will see to those," Peter assured her.

"Of course." A little more weight came off her shoulders. _Back to civilization – I needn't carry things myself. Definitely, I see a hot bath in my near future. _

"Do you need time to settle in?" he asked, and she realized he was studying her face. "Are you tired?"

The thought came unbidden to her mind, _I am exhausted_, but she freshened her smile with an effort. "Thank you, no. I'm quite well."

"Glad to hear it! How about a tour?"

Inara was surprised at the offer. Often, new clients needed to be reined in to some degree, their attention shifted away from the bed long enough to introduce them to the ritual tea ceremony, to show them that she offered an experience more profound than mere sex. More than whoring.

_Damn him… Damn him for making me think this way._

"I'd be delighted," she replied.

Her training settled over her like a well fitted costume. The ability to compartmentalize was a necessity for a Companion; her own emotions must not interfere from her treatment of her client. Still, she'd never felt this extreme of a separation. Her face was placid, and polite rejoinders fell from her lips, but her thoughts wandered in a haze.

_Selling honor, Mal thinks I sell honor… as if someone like Peter Skuld needs to buy it._

"Really?" she heard herself ask. "And what do the processors do?" She wasn't consciously aware of what Peter was describing. She tried to pull herself into the present, to focus on his answer.

"The average rock towed in from the outer rings has roughly 30 percent crystal content…"

_How long will I feel this absurd need to defend myself? The man is just an ignorant, biased, petty criminal, for Buddha's sake…_

"…the separation and initial processing reduces the mass considerably, although… "

…_there is no reason for me to justify myself, to him or anyone…_

"…eventually we'd like to do fabrication before shipping, but the legal rights on the process are a hotly contested…"

_I spent my entire life training, building skills that deserve respect. I help people. I change their lives. He has no right to question that, to devalue what I do._

"…I never tire of this view."

The change of subject, and tone, snuck through her internal rant, and her autopilot shut down.

"Oh – yes," she replied dully as her mind caught up with the situation. They had come to a stop before a large viewport; she'd seen the rings on her way in, but had been too busy with her own thoughts to do more than notice their existence. Now she took a long look.

The sun was a bright point high to her left, shining against a backdrop of stars. Its light made the entire ring structure glow in too many shades of light tan and brown and gray to be named. The outermost rings shimmered in multifaceted color, making a long arc that disappeared behind the brown-yellow rim of the planet just visible to her right.

It was breathtaking. She let herself get lost in the view, and it calmed the bitterness in her mind.

"It is lovely." She looked up and him and smiled, finally able to focus on the present. "You're very lucky to have such scenery."

"I am. I will be sorry to leave."

"Are you really so reluctant to return to the Core?"

His mien turned wistful. "My life isn't my own there. The paparazzi on Londinium are brutal – they're like rodents, squeezing into any little space. And they are impossible to be rid of. Unfortunately, it's not legal to poison them." He finished with a laugh.

"I understand the sentiment," she responded. "I have had some experience with them myself, though a Companion doesn't provide nearly as much fodder as a star Cartel heir and possible future member of Parliament."

He gave her an sharp look. "You did research on me?"

"Not a lot. I just saw an interview with your Aunt. She denied the allegation about your ambitions, but I find these rumors often have at least a drop of truth."

He smiled, took her arm again and continued leading her down the corridor. "Yes, there is… a drop. But the ambition isn't mine. It's not what I'd choose to do with my life. Auntie Beyla is very driven and I find myself swept along in her wake. She built this entire Cartel herself, you know, starting from a small supply firm my parents ran on Londinium."

"She must be quite a woman."

"Quite."

Inara heard a slight tightness in his voice, so she changed the subject. Her previous absent-mindedness bothered her; it wasn't professional to be so preoccupied. She wished to make it up to him, to set him at ease by finding topics of interest.

"I've also heard a few things about Niflheim. Has the terraform truly failed?"

He lowered his eyes sadly. "It has. I still don't understand why it didn't take here, but then, we aren't the ones in control of the planetary environment. That would be the Verdande Family."

"Verdande?"

"The top Cartel here - they have the largest share of the market. Quite powerful. You'll meet one of them at the party tomorrow." He smiled as he continued. "Auntie Beyla hates him with a passion, so of course everything about the party will be perfect. She wants nothing more than to show up the great Edward Verdande."

"He's a tough competitor?"

"Yes. Very." They paused at a viewport on the other side of the corridor; this one was nearly filled with the face of the planet. The oceans were a deep sapphire blue, and the continents various shades of gold and ochre and brown, glowing brightly in the full sun. Stunning, Inara thought, until she realized what the color meant.

"It's really dead, isn't it?"

"It's tremendously frustrating. The world was once approaching full self-sufficiency. A beautiful place, I've heard. I've seen captures taken Before, as the locals call it. It was as green as any world in the Core."

She found herself studying the planet's surface for any sign of civilization. They were down there somewhere, the crew of eight, and the ship. They were probably just landing now.

"Do you ever go planetside?" she asked.

"I did once, when I first arrived. That was two years ago, and the world was pretty much dead even then. We still maintain a few compounds with living quarters for the families of the miners. Their work schedules allow them to split time between the rings and their homes planetside. Other than that, there's hardly anyone left, just those who are too stubborn to leave. Heathens who like living without any law or restraint."

Inara couldn't help a small smile at that. It was an apt description of at least one man down there.

"Worthless garbage," Peter added, "if you ask me."

_I didn't ask,_ Inara thought. _And he may be a bit of a heathen, but he's not garbage and he's certainly not worthless._ She sighed and shook her head. _Now I'm defending him?_

"You don't agree?" he asked, noticing her reaction.

She tried to recover with a smile and a teasing tone. "I was just thinking… maybe they're not so different from a Cartel's heir wanting to live away from the constricting society of the Core."

His face tightened for just a second before he returned her smile. "No, I suppose not."

Inara turned her head back to the viewport. She was out of practice; what an idiotic thing to say. Not the most effective way to set the man at ease. She tried to minimize the damage by changing the subject.

"So… you were telling me about the mining process, something about a fabrication scheme?"

"The bane of Auntie's existence." He was clearly annoyed. "I tell you, Miss Serra, I am tired of mining and harvesters and processing by-products and the rest. Do you mind if I put off the rest of the tour?"

"Of course. If you'd like to retire – "

"Actually, I'll need to have my right hand man Henry show you to your quarters. I'm afraid I still have some business to attend to. He'll arrange to have dinner served in your suite. If anything isn't up to your satisfaction – "

"I'm sure it will be fine," she told him. "You'll be joining me later?"

"I have a lot to do to prepare for leaving. I'll come by in the morning and we can finish the tour." He kissed her hand and seemed prepared to leave her with that. Inara held on to his hand, making him pause.

"Peter, you do understand the area of expertise of a Companion?"

"I do," he replied with a gentle smile. "But that's no reason to abandon self control and rush things." He saw her puzzled look and laughed, all his tension gone. "Consider me a romantic. I'd like to woo you. Besides, we'll have several days together during the trip to Londinium."

He stroked her cheek, and leaned in for a real kiss. It was well done, gentle and soft, not too aggressive, but promising that more would follow. He smiled down at her for a long second before he turned to a man who had been trailing some distance behind them.

"Henry, please show Miss Serra to her quarters and take care of anything she needs."

She watched Peter leave, confusion piling on to the emotions already warring inside her.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara took full advantage of her suite's mammoth bathtub and enjoyed an exquisite meal served with an even better white wine, then she spent several hours catching up on news from the Core, using the high speed cortex in the main room of her sumptuous quarters.

It was late by then, but, despite the long night she'd just passed on _Serenity_, she was unable to sleep. She sat in the cushioned ledge below a large viewport, sipping a second glass of wine which she usually didn't allow herself while working, and she watched the light play in the rings. When the view slowly turned planetside, which was now in shadow, she found a few clusters of lights on the surface. The crew was down there, somewhere. Going about their business without her.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara woke up with a headache and a bitter mouth. She'd allowed herself that second glass of wine, and when sleep wouldn't come she'd had a third, and a fourth.

It was already afternoon on the platform. She was surprised that no one had sent for her; this was one of the stranger appointments she'd ever had.

Ten minutes after she woke up, a gentle knock sounded at the door. It was the servant Henry, arriving with a tray of coffee, fruit, and an assortment of breakfast pastries. She noticed that the wet bar in her suite had also been stocked with the fixings for morning cocktails. Someone had noticed the bottle of wine she'd emptied last night.

In high society, it was common to have one's behavior observed in this way. After all, one's needs couldn't be seen to unless they were known. It had never bothered her before.

Peter stopped by an hour later, after she'd had time to bathe and use those wonderful Guild makeups and hangover cures. She was ready for him, incense burning, lights lowered, and the tea set she'd brought prepared for the ceremony. But he refused the offer, saying he was only stopping by to inform her of the plans for the party that night.

He insisted on seeing her dress, claiming a need to coordinate his accessories. Inara watched him inspect the dress, and she saw through his excuse. He wanted to make sure she'd be up to standards. Fortunately, her white and gold gown passed the test. She didn't tell him she'd worn it before. Nor did she tell him how she'd had reason to worry about getting blood stains on it. That wasn't a problem at most Core society events, only the ones Malcolm Reynolds attended.

Peter kissed her again on his way out. She should have stopped him, insisted that further physical contact wait until he took part in the tea ceremony, but the situation was so strange already, a mix of the Core she knew and the edges of civilization she'd been living in for a year. It was unclear which rules applied, and she was feeling too drained to sort it out.

A few times it occurred to her to check in with _Serenity_, but she put it off. She remotely connected to the computer on the shuttle, but there were no messages. She decided it was best not to disturb the crew until _Serenity_ was repaired and could safely return to orbit. Inara assumed they would let her know when that happened. She hoped so, anyway.

She'd been unfair to Mal; she was aware of that. But he couldn't be so angry as to deny her the chance to say goodbye. Could he?

.*. .*. .*.

"May I introduce the lovely Inara Serra, Registered Companion."

Beyla Skuld nodded at Peter's introduction. The elderly woman's posture was flawless, her bearing graceful, but she was clearly quite old. Someone in her class could afford the best age-defying treatments; for her to look as old as she did meant that her years were many indeed, well past the century mark. Inara curtsied, respectful of the years of experience before her, then stood patiently before the candid scrutiny.

"Inara arrived last night," Peter continued, stepping closer to Inara and taking her hand with gentle familiarity. "I didn't bring her to you earlier for an introduction, as she slept in a little late." He finished with a squeeze of Inara's hand and a warm, intimate smile.

Inara blinked at the insinuation. Beyla missed her reaction; the woman had turned to the side and spoke into an embroidered handkerchef. Inara just caught the words: _I'll be right with you._

"Are you all right, Auntie Beyla?" Peter asked.

"Oh yes, thank you. I have a small business matter which requires my attention. I'll need a few moments. Could you handle the introductions for me?" She inclined her head toward the elegantly clad guests gathering in the foyer.

"Of course."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Serra," Beyla said to Inara. "I look forward to chatting with you over dinner."

Inara smiled warmly. "Myself as well," she said, then on a whim she added, "Auntie."

Beyla returned the smile, then disappeared through a doorway in the paneling behind her.

Inara turned a questioning look on Peter, which he ignored. "Let's go 'handle the introductions,' hmm?" He looked somewhat less than thrilled at the prospect.

The Skuld Cartel didn't accept Niflheim's remote location as an excuse to lack any luxury; on the contrary, abundance was something the revelers at Peter's going-away party seemed to take for granted. Inara found herself wondering how there could be such a wide selection of tropical fruit which tasted as if it had been picked that morning. But she didn't ask; she tried to turn off the analytical part of her brain and just enjoy.

The conversation was engaging enough to help. Peter stayed with her all evening, introducing her to the guests with an obvious show of pride, something she was accustomed to. Or, more precisely, something she used to be accustomed to. She hadn't had this level of admiration in some time. It felt good, and the grief that nipped at her, the pangs of already missing _Serenity_, faded just a little.

At dinner, she sat next to Peter, who was at Beyla's right hand. On Inara's other side was the Skuld's primary competition: the honorable Edward Verdande III, head of the Cartel which had first discovered the valuable crystals in the planetary rings. Edward, as he insisted she call him, was a confident man, in his mid-fifties and clearly used to all the comforts that came with extreme wealth. He had tendered Inara an offer, though with her hurried decision she'd never even interviewed him. Inara regretted her haste now, not that she believed she would have chosen differently, but being fair was a courtesy she had never before ignored. It was yet more evidence of Mal's detrimental effect on her life.

To her relief, Edward appeared to harbor no resentment. He was attentive and entertaining, although the few words that passed between Edward and Peter were rather stilted. The two men were clearly not fond of each other.

After dinner, Peter led Inara along a small back passageway and they beat the other guests to the viewing deck which served as the night's ballroom. The room was long and somewhat narrow, about thirty meters wide and lined with windows. They entered at one end, where a bar and heavily laden buffet table had been placed to avoid blocking the view.

Inara and Peter wondered toward the far end of the room, arm and arm, getting some distance from the guests who began trickling in behind them.

"Did you like the great Edward the Third?" Peter asked.

"He was quite charming," Inara answered, irony in her voice. She didn't think Peter wanted to hear her complement the competition.

"Yes, he talks sweetly, but the man is actually quite ruthless." Peter didn't seemed distressed over it, in fact he sounded a little bored, but he continued. "Ed's on friendly terms with at least half of Parliament – such is the power of wealth and lobbying. Auntie will make you deaf, going on about how the laws don't apply to him. Mining rights, the mining and fabrication process that he has a stranglehold on... It's all anyone can do to stay in business here, according to my dear Aunt. She thinks we'll be going under any day now!" He gave a sarcastic sigh at the tragedy of it.

"You don't seem to be doing too poorly," Inara replied with a glance around the room.

"Now, that's exactly what I think. But, to each his, or _her_, own standards."

Inara shared his smile at the pointed reference to his aunt. He really was quite easy-going, not what she'd expected from a possible future member of Parliament.

They reached the far end of the room; which apparently continued for some way, but was too much space for such an exclusive gathering and was blocked off by a solid divider. Just as they reached there, Beyla appeared from a gap at the edge of the partition.

"Peter, dear," Beyla interrupted. "How is your party so far?"

Peter greeted the matriarch with exaggerated delight. "Wonderful, Auntie. Simply splendid."

Beyla smiled graciously. "Inara, darling – could you be a dear and fetch me some brandy? I have a small business matter to discuss with my nephew."

"Of course."

Inara looked back across the room from the bar. Peter and Beyla were standing apart from the crowd, deep in conversation. They didn't seem eager for her return, so she took the long way back, staying close to the windows so she could scrutinize the planet's surface. She had to turn a critical eye on her own behavior; here she was, attending an extravagant party with the wealthiest and most powerful people in the system, but she felt left out of the real action – as if the things happening to the people on _Serenity_ were of greater consequence to the 'verse than the billionaires in this room.

How long would this haunt her, this obsession with that păo lóng tào crew?

She realized she'd reached the far end of the room, passing through the small gap beside the divider. The empty space behind it was comforting, and she stayed there while she crossed the width of the room, enjoying the quiet as long as she could. That was how, unintentionally, she ended up eavesdropping.

"What did he talk to her about?" Beyla was asking Peter as Inara came around the corner behind them.

"A lot of nothing. He was quite well behaved, actually. On a first name basis, can you believe it? Trying to weasel his way in with my Companion."

Inara smiled at the idea. It was flattering to be fought over, as long as no actual blows, bullets, or swords were involved. She stepped back behind the divider, although she stayed within hearing distance. She was slightly shocked at her own behavior, but more amused than ashamed.

From the tone of Beyla's voice, it seemed the woman was smiling as well. "Bù kĕ yī shì gōng jī. I'll bet he was livid she chose you. How did you manage it? Did you plan this in advance, and have her shipped out for the occasion?"

"Not at all. Really, she showed up yesterday, and took my first offer. I didn't even need to haggle. She doesn't have much business sense."

Inara's smile faded and she felt her face heat up. Such was the price of listening in on a private conversation – hearing something unpleasant.

"You always did have the devil's good fortune, Peter. And she's going back to Londinium with you?"

"Yes. I imagine arriving with a Companion in my bed will silence a few wagging tongues."

"It may, but only until the next time you get caught misbehaving. Do I need to explain to you again?"

"Please, Auntie – "

"You've enjoyed your exile entirely too much. Here, you're out of the eye of interested parties, so I've let you enjoy yourself, but it stops now, do you understand?"

"Don't be so harsh," he said lightly. "I have two more days."

"Two busy days. I just heard from Ginger; they've found a ship."

"How did they manage that?"

"She didn't go into detail, but I saw it from the satellite. It should suffice. Thank goodness they finally made progress; I thought I would have to arrange transport for them myself, the fools." She paused for a sigh of displeasure before continuing. "They should have left the surface by now, and we'll have the harvester in the next few hours. I'll arrange to have it placed on your yacht."

"Wonderful," he replied sarcastically.

"I cannot stress enough the need for secrecy. Our engineers in the Core will need to look at it, and no one must know. And, Peter, this means you have to behave. You cannot draw attention to yourself over some minor infraction. This is vital to our future, and to the future of others – you can't be caught with it."

"Yes, Auntie dear," Peter drawled in a bored voice.

When Beyla didn't respond, Inara peeked around the divider and saw the woman glaring at her nephew for a few seconds before her gaze returned to a dance just beginning in the center of the room. Inara decided it was a good time to make her presence known. She circled around the far side of the divider so she could approach them from the front.

"Auntie," she said with as much warmth as she could muster, "your brandy."

It wasn't the first time a client had used Inara to further his social or political position, and it was certainly less offensive and painful than it had been the first time it had happened. Still, it brought back feelings that she'd hoped to have overcome. She'd thought she was past the bitterness that had plagued her during those last few months in the Core. She inwardly voiced one of Mal's frequent complaints, something regarding complications and life's general lack of smoothness.

Instead of being amused by the thought, her annoyance at that man's continued presence in her head increased.

The rest of the evening flew by as she watched the cool Companion in herself effortlessly charm the strangers around her. Much later, Peter took her arm and started to lead her out of the room, but he was stopped by Beyla.

"Peter, darling," Beyla said, "I just wanted to let you know. That business matter we discussed has seen a few delays."

"You heard from her again?"

"Yes. She said they are having… technical difficulties with their transport. But it shouldn't delay your departure."

Inara had barely been listening, but she heard the last part, and a surge of hope rose in her chest, catching her by surprise. "Delayed departure?" she asked.

"Nothing to worry about," Peter said, patting her hand. "We'll be on our way as planned."

Inara missed the rest of the conversation, just coming to herself enough to bid Beyla goodnight as Peter led her away from the party. But she was distracted yet again, and this time she fully realized why. She'd been happy to hear about a delay.

_Oh, you fool,_ she berated herself. _You complete fool. You don't want to leave. It's not just a matter of having enough time to say goodbye to the crew – you hate the idea of leaving. What have you gotten yourself into? How could you let it come to this? _

Then she and Peter were at the door to her quarters, talking, although she had no idea what she was saying. And they were kissing, and he was gentle and smelled good and tasted good and his body felt good against her, but she hated it. She wanted to push him away, tell him to leave her be.

And then somehow she was alone inside, the door clicking shut behind her.

Inara stood frozen, trying to understand what had just happened. She honestly couldn't remember what Peter had said. Or did she say it? Something about it being late… a wonderful party… time to retire.

She couldn't deny it, the last thing she wanted to do at the moment was service him. But there was a contract and she would do her best to honor it. Whatever her problems, they were no excuse for sending a client away from her door.

Quickly, she changed into a sheer nightgown under a thin but richly patterned robe, then she rang for Henry. He answered at the door looking pleasantly bored and properly unopinionated regarding her apparel.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Could you please take me to Peter?"

She thought she read hesitation on his grey features, but then he gave the faintest hint of shrug. "As you wish," he said, and he turned to guide her though the corridors. He stayed in deserted back halls, probably in deference to her state of dress. It took a few minutes to reach a set of doors which Henry motioned her toward with another small bow. Then, without a word, he turned and left.

Inara watched his retreating back until he turned a corner, then waited until his footsteps faded. Briefly, she wondered if she could find her way back to her quarters alone; it wasn't too late. But she shook the idea from her head and knocked.

She heard a faint invitation to enter, so she pushed the door open and stepped into a large dim room. It was decorated in a modern masculine style, bare walls and a cluster of furniture in the center of the space, stylishly but simply constructed of cream-colored leather over frames of dark brown wood. The entire side wall was transparent, and the yellow-gold light of the planet's surface outshone the glow of the few lamps in the room.

Peter was lounging in the center of the sofa facing the windows. His black robe was open to show his tan, chiseled chest and abdomen, and the loose black silk of his pants draped to accentuate the shape of his legs. He was the picture of wealthy luxuriousness, a satisfied half smile on his face and a snifter of liquor held loosely in his right hand.

"Inara Serra. What a surprise," he said in a smooth voice, but he didn't get up. He didn't move at all, just watched her with an empty smile.

She stepped further into the room, studying his face. She felt that something wasn't right, something she couldn't quite place.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" he continued.

"I was concerned that I may have been… hasty about ending an enjoyable evening."

"Ah! Never fear – the evening may be over, but not the enjoyment." His smile grew. "The fun never ends out here on the rim." He patted the sofa next to him.

Inara sat where he'd indicated, trying to appear at ease. He followed her with his eyes, but there was an emptiness there, an absence. She had a strong feeling that how she looked didn't matter; he was completely unaware of her appearance and body language. He continued to watch her with that same pleasant smile fixed to his lips until she shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat.

He inhaled deeply, as if he'd forgotten to breathe. "Where _are_ my manners," he said.

He leaned forward and took a small glass dropper bottle off the table; it was half full of a green-yellow liquid. He unscrewed the lid, filled the dropper, and offered it to Inara. When she shook her head, he emptied it under his tongue, then closed the bottle and leaned back to wait for the drug to be absorbed into his system.

Inara knew what it was: a type of drops favored by the extremely wealthy, not widely used because of its price, its tendency to be highly addictive, and the adverse affect it had on one's emotional stability.

She waited for him to finish with his dose, although she knew that at this point she could have gotten up and left without him noticing. She wasn't sure why she didn't – maybe it was exhaustion, or a growing sense of unreality. She remembered a book in the archives of the Madrassa House library, a classic from Earth-That-Was. Inara had fallen down the rabbit hole, and she felt just as blasé and accepting as Alice had been. _Eat me, drink me…_

She felt a sudden urge to take the offered bottle, to lose herself in oblivion for a while. But the urge didn't overcome her common sense. She sat still, lost in her own thoughts, not even aware of his movement when he leaned forward to spit the used liquid into a ceramic jar. But he brought her back to the room when he spoke, his words coming slowly, as if he was forming each one carefully.

"A person as schooled in pleasure as yourself shouldn't be so shocked."

She swallowed hard and tried to smile. "Do I look shocked?"

"You look…" His smile was dreamy. "You look like you've seen a really scary spider." He finished with a giggle that was oddly contagious, almost making her smile despite herself. "Big and hairy and… all legs," he continued, then put a hand on the sofa and spidered it over to her, tickling her knee. It took all her will power not to move away from his touch.

"Have some – don't be such a bore," he said, holding out the bottle.

"No, really, I'm fine.

"Do you even know how much this little bottle costs?" He held it up in the dim light. It looked sickly green in front of the golden face of the planet.

"I have a pretty good idea."

"See – I was right. Well schooled. Even a Companion can't afford this all the time. Sure you don't want any? It's really… nice."

"I can see it is."

He set down the bottle, then let himself drape back over the sofa. Inara remembered Mal, in that same pose, not very long ago. But that had been so different.

"You shouldn't be so disapproving," he said, though his eyes were closed and he couldn't see her expression.

"I don't disapprove," she replied, but he continued without hearing her.

"When I get back home, I won't be able to do this anymore. Won't be able to do a gorram thing. Have to behave. No more scandals. Auntie, pfft. She's not an aunt, she's a gorram tyrant. Do you know what it's like to live with a tyrant watching over everything you do?"

"I have… an idea."

He laughed, though the timing was a little off, the delay too long, as if he was laughing at something in his own head and not at anything she said.

"I'm glad you're going with me. We'll have such fun." Without warning, he tilted into her lap and wrapped an arm around her knees.

"Cuddling is nice," he said.

"Yes," she replied absently, trying to force herself to relax. She lifted her hand to stroke the back of his neck, obeying an ingrained tendency to comfort.

Her touch must have felt as awkward to him as it did to her. "Don't worry. I have no designs on you," he said against her thigh.

Inara took a deep breath, confusion and exasperation breaking through her numbness. "Designs? Don't you know what I am?"

He didn't answer. She tried to push him away, but he was heavy, and his arm tightened around her knees. His happy voice was unchanged by her effort. "Relax, it's just a cuddle. You're not really my type."

"Not your type? Then why did you make an offer?"

"Just playing the game. Made Auntie happy. Showed up old Verdande. Don't be upset, I have a lot of respect for you. You're a lovely woman." He rolled to his back and looked at her, reaching a hand up to twirl a bit of her hair.

"I guess not everyone likes lovely women," she said softly, and the numbness closed around her again, though she tried to fight it off. Apparently, she was a pawn in this man's political dealings – but it was just business, not a personal insult. He had no idea who Inara Serra was. He knew her as a Companion, nothing more than that.

And, anyway, she'd bragged to Mal about this very thing. She'd practically paraded it in front of him, her pride that clients would compete, would pay a large fee, for the honor of her company. She had no right to be offended when that very thing happened.

Peter sat up suddenly and burrowed his face into her hair. "You smell good," he whispered against her neck.

Inara turned away from him, but didn't push him off. She tried to be amused at his behavior. "Good smelling is not your type?" she asked lightly.

Suddenly he let go of her and stood up. "Come see," he said playfully. "You can watch if you want." He grabbed her hand and pulled her after him.

When he pushed open the door to his bedchamber and Inara looked in, her mind went red.

When she came back to her senses, Inara was in her quarters, huddled in a chair with her robe pulled tightly around her body. She rubbed a hand against her face, felt the tenderness of her cheekbone. Had she been hit?

Then she remembered what had happened, what she'd done. She shoved it all aside except one driving thought: _I need to go home._

Hastily she changed into the first dress she found, her thin peach silk, and threw her belongings into her bags. She tried to carry them all into the corridor, but there was too much; she dropped the bags in the doorway and stood surrounded by them. She considered leaving them behind, but then realized she didn't even know how to get to the landing platform – she had no idea where her shuttle was.

Henry appeared, as if from thin air.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"I…" she forced her voice to be firm. "I wish to return to my shuttle." She braced herself for his response, but his face was completely neutral as he bowed.

"Of course. You may leave your bags; I'll arrange to have them moved."

"I need them with me."

"Please do not distress yourself, Miss Serra. Your bags will precede us to your shuttle. If you'd care to follow me?"

She hesitated, but saw no other option. "Of course."

Henry spoke into a microphone in his cufflink as he led her down the corridor. True to his word, her bags were waiting in the shuttle when they reached it, although the walk hadn't taken longer than a minute.

To her distress, Henry followed her into the shuttle, but he stopped just inside the hatch.

"If you please, Miss Serra, Madam Skuld has sent this for you." He held out a sealed envelope. "It is your payment. She wishes me to inform you that she has doubled the amount." His bored voice never changed in tone as he continued. "Also, she respectfully requests that certain things you experienced here should not be spoken of again. She would be happy to return the favor, and not make public certain actions you chose to take, which could reflect poorly on your character, as well as your standing with the Guild, should they become known."

Inara couldn't even begin to respond to the threat, but Henry wasn't interested in a response. He bowed one last time, then left the shuttle.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara took a deep breath and steeled herself against the continuing silence of the comm. She wiped a hand over her face, clearing the wetness under her eyes, trying to calm herself and failing.

"Gods, are you there? Could you just acknowledge me?"

There was still no response. This was humiliating, begging Mal to speak to her. What had she come to, that she couldn't shake off this need for him?

"Fine," she said in the strongest voice she could muster. "I'll be docking in ten minutes. Don't bother me. Ever."

She shut off the comm, but stayed in the pilot's seat, frozen, for several minutes.

_Idiot. I'm such an idiot. Why did I ever come out here? Why did I stay so long?_

Wash would have replied to her call, immediately. Anyone else on the ship would have been ready to talk to her. Only Mal would refuse.

_He could have said one word. Just one kind word._

Acts of kindness had never been Mal's strong point, but surely he was capable. The way he treated Kaylee… Inara sighed. Kaylee was such an innocent and loving soul; she invited kindness. Not like a fancied up whore.

She dropped her head and wiped at her eyes again. Mal's opinion of her profession wasn't all there was to it; she treated him just as poorly as he treated her. She wasn't capable of the kind of love that could overcome the barriers he had around him, and he'd never be able to heal the hurts that life had done to her.

_This is why I have to keep my distance from him. This is why I have to leave. _

She forced her lungs to fill, then put her hands on the controls. She could see _Serenity_ now, looking small in the wide empty space between the shadowed inner rings and the planet's night side. She guided the shuttle in, handling the docking mechanism remotely. She was somewhat surprised when the equipment responded; Mal might have locked it down to keep her out, if he really wanted to avoid her.

After she powered down the shuttle, she sat still, trying to decide what to do. Mal wouldn't bother her now; he couldn't be that much of a bastard. To ignore her and then barge in… No, he wouldn't. She could sleep now. Curl up and give herself several hours of peaceful emptiness. She'd probably need a tranquilizer to do it, but finally, she could rest.

She stood up stiffly and walked to the cabinet where she kept her medicines, but before she pulled open the drawer she heard the latch on the outer door of the airlock being released.

Inara turned toward the shuttle's entrance, rage erupting from some deep place beyond her control. Mal was coming here, now, after what he'd just done. The nerve of it made her shake with frustration. But if he wanted to talk to her, fine. He was going to get a gorram earful…

She strode to the hatch and pulled it open. A man wearing a dark grey coat was waiting there, an eager sneer on his face and violence in his eyes.

He stepped forward and roughly shoved her back into the shuttle. Inara felt bewildered more than frightened; this was supposed to be _home_. The danger awaiting her on _Serenity_ was supposed to be something far different from this. She should be facing callous words from Mal, not a physical attack from a stranger.

She regained her balance and stood still, watching in stunned silence as the man stepped into the shuttle and looked around. There had been violence on the ship; the man's nose was swollen, dark bruises were forming under his eyes, and half dried blood was smeared over his mouth and chin.

"I like the décor," he said casually, as if he was shopping for a shuttle of his own. "Exotic. Turns me on." His gaze settled on her, and he tipped his head to the side while his eyes raked over her body. "Funny," he continued, "he never said anything about you looking like that."

Inara didn't ask who he meant; she barely processed his words. Slowly, her mind began to take in the new situation. A stranger, here, on the ship. Violence. The silent comm…

No time to consider that. She had a strange man in front of her, and he definitely wasn't here for tea. She needed to focus on him. Snap out of it. Think.

"Oh – that's right," he said, and his mouth curved into a smile that would have been brilliant if his lips and teeth hadn't been flecked with blood. "He couldn't tell me. On account of how he couldn't talk."

He was watching her face eagerly, looking for a reaction. He was baiting her then, trying to draw her in to whatever game he was playing. But she didn't respond, just stood her ground. She needed to work out exactly what he was after.

It wasn't difficult. In fact, he did all he could to make it clear. His eyes traveled over her body again as he deliberately pulled his coat off and threw it aside, then he took a few slow, stalking steps toward her. He held himself as tall and broad as he could, as if his size alone would cow her.

Inara was well schooled in recognizing what men wanted and giving it to them, although this was far from the usual way of it. It disgusted her, but she shortened her breathing and took a few hesitant steps back, as if she was panicked.

He smiled, enjoying her reaction. "It's a shame he was gagged," he said. "Your man could have told me exactly how you like it." He put his hands on the buckle of the gunbelt that slung low over his hips. "But don't worry, sweetheart. I have a few ideas of my own."

He looked her in the eye while he unfastened the belt, then pulled it off and dropped it behind him. He was completely self-assured, secure in his superior physical strength. Inara felt adrenaline surge through her, and her weight shifted forward to the balls of her feet, the muscles in her legs ready to move. But she dropped her head and concentrated on relaxing her shoulders, deliberately looking wilted, defeated.

His breath hissed out in satisfaction at her stance, and his smile turned to a sneer as he unfastened the large silver buckle at his waist. Slowly, he drew his belt through the loops of his jeans.

"I told him everything I have in mind for you, and he didn't object. Oh – but wait." He paused to stare up at the ceiling theatrically, looking downright pleased with his own performance. "I forgot _again_ about that not able to speak thing. Not much able to breathe, either. But he sure could listen. Wanna know what I told him?"

He finished removing his belt and twisted it in his hands, as if considering uses for it. Inara dropped her eyes from his face to watch; he was right-handed, and held his left elbow close in to his side, as if his ribs pained him.

He continued to talk, but Inara didn't let herself consider what he was saying. The acts he described were just a way for him to get what he really wanted, to make himself feel powerful by breaking her with fear. She understood it as much as she hated it; no one could become a Companion without learning about this side of the human psyche.

She'd also been trained in how to handle a man like this, although she'd never had someone threaten her with such outright violence. The one time she'd been taken advantage of had been very different –

"Your boyfriend did seem a bit upset over that last one," he was saying. "Seemed to think you wouldn't like it."

Inara wrenched her attention back to the present. He was standing still, watching her. He had his weight back on his heels and his hips pushed forward; he wasn't well balanced – clearly, he wasn't expecting her to defend herself. This wasn't like the other time; this was simple.

"Darling, what do you suppose was the last thing that browncoat did before I came here to meet you?"

Inara didn't answer; she couldn't let herself speak. After the past few days… she could make herself _look_ the part of victim, but she wasn't capable of talking it. She wouldn't be able to mask the vitriol in her voice.

"Come on, honey. Ask me what he did."

She let him get closer, her head down so she'd look properly terrified. But her eyes were focused on his knees, watching his stance, how he shifted his weight as he stepped toward her.

"Oh, all right, I give. I'll tell. Last thing he did was…" he leaned closer and spat the word, "die."

Inara drew in a sharp breath and straightened, lifting her head. For the first time, she spoke to him.

"You're lying."

"Do you think so?" He stopped just out of reach, watching her with his tongue slipping out between his teeth, as if he relished some taste in the air. Then he grinned. "Poor thing. Keeping your hopes up will only make it harder on you when you see his corpse, all bloody and cut up."

She didn't believe him. She couldn't point to it exactly, the thing in his body language and tone of voice that gave him away, but she was sure that he was making this up. He was trying to get into her head, to defeat her without striking a blow. This was a game to him, a game with no rules, but certainly extra points for technique and creativity. He hadn't gotten enough of a reaction out of her, so he'd kept fishing around until he found something…

She realized that she was trying very hard to convince herself. What if she was wrong? What if she was making up the lie she saw in him? She'd made a mistake with Peter; what if she was mistaken now, too?

What if Mal really was dead?

The man was watching her face, and when the doubt came over her, he smiled broadly and threw his belt aside. He took another step toward her, coming within striking distance.

Inara realized she couldn't move. Precious Buddha – Mal dead?

He began to unbutton the fly on his black jeans. When he spoke again, his voice was low and menacing.

"That browncoat took his last breath knowing exactly what I'm gonna do to you right now."

Inara felt nothing but icy coldness inside, but the paralysis snapped and years of training took over. He was completely unprepared for the hard edge of her hand that slammed into his solar plexus, and the knee that drove into his groin. She leaned into him as he hunched over in pain, purposely letting her shoulder knock against his swollen nose, and she dug her elbow into his sore ribs while she used the strength of her legs to shift him off balance. He flipped over her back, his own body's weight intensifying the impact of his skull against the deck, and he collapsed in a heap.

Inara backed away until she reached the bulkhead, moving as far from the cargo bay as she could. She slid down to sit, staring across the shuttle, over the man's still body to the open hatch.

She might have stayed like that until she wasted away, unable to face whatever horror awaited her on the ship. But, after a time she couldn't measure, another strange man appeared in the entrance. He had a heavy old-fashioned revolver in his hand, and his face was blank as he studied the motionless figure on the deck.

He walked in and nudged the body with his foot, then looked up at Inara.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
păo lóng tào: small time  
bù kĕ yī shì gōng jī: insufferably arrogant cock (as in rooster)

* * *

Chapter 14.

_More than a century before the War of Unification established the Alliance as the governing body of all the settled planets, an expedition set out from Londinium. The single large cruiser intended to meander through previously unexplored regions of the verse for three years, searching for planets suitable for terraforming. _

_The mission was early in its third year when it encountered a promising planet, which was soon given the name New Borjomi. The cruiser spent two weeks in orbit while crews conducted surveys and collected data about the planet's atmosphere and surface composition._

_A nearby planet, then known only by its catalog number P23-657, was visited by a few unmanned probes, but was never considered a serious candidate for human habitation. Its native environment was too harsh; the terraforming process would have been lengthy and expensive, and not guaranteed to succeed. But P23-657 drew considerable attention because of its rare and beautiful system of planetary rings. Not surprisingly, astronomy was a popular hobby with the expedition's scientists and their families, and the ringed planet was quite popular. _

_One of the star-gazers, the wife of a mid-level technician, had an avid interest as well as detailed understanding of astrophysics, a hobby dating back to her college days. Of particular relevance, she was fond of using absorption and emission spectra to identify the composition of distant objects. Sticking her nose in other planets' business, Eileen Verdande would explain to her husband Edward and their three year old son, Ed Jr._

_Eileen had a long look at P23-657 and its rings, analyzed her results, then, for the rest of the expedition's visit to New Borjomi, spent the majority of her spare time checking and re-checking what she saw._

_It just happened that Edward, who had a background in materials science, had recently read, and discussed with his wife, an article about lithium dubniate, LiDbO__3_

_Centuries ago, he'd explained, computing speeds took a large step up when computer systems changed from electronic to optical. Laser light carried signals through the computer's connections faster than electrons could. One of the challenges to this advance was creating an optical flip-flop, the component which stored the ones and zeros upon which computing was based. Engineers needed a material which exhibited bistability, meaning it could be triggered between two states by an incident beam of laser light. _

_Recent lab work had found that LiDbO__3__ showed promise of being a much more efficient optical flip-flip than the currently predominant artificial polymers. If the initial research findings were verified, LiDbO__3__ would become a vital component in the kind of high-power optical computing systems needed for intensive science and engineering applications, as well as for handling the huge amount of computing involved in the operation of government and military cruiseships. _

_Edward and Eileen quietly did more research over the cortex. At that time, the use of LiDbO__3__ in the computer industry was still on the horizon; the material had never been of value before, and therefore wasn't included on standard scans. There were multiple natural sources of the material, but they were all located planetside, and the methods of mining, processing, and transport involved were prohibitively expensive. A source of LiDbO__3__ crystals, in space, easily harvested and, as Eileen calculated from her spectral data, in abundance, was beyond a gold mine. _

_The Verdandes watched the other stargazers suspiciously, hoping that no one else would suspect the true nature of the eye-catching rings of P23-657, until, finally, the expedition moved on. The couple was a nervous wreck for the next few months, watching the price and demand for LiDbO__3__ slowly rise in the Core markets. When the expedition finally returned to the Core, Edward quit his job and the couple quietly went about gathering funds, fortunately obtaining backing from a few wealthy relatives. _

_A year later, they took a private trip out to P23-657 and collected samples from the outer rings. Those samples, combined with Eileen's data and her estimate of the size of the LiDbO__3__ reserve, helped the couple gather all the capital they needed. They bought the mineral rights to the remote planet, getting a ridiculously low price, and the Verdande Cartel was formed._

.*. .*. .*.

River made no sound as she ran up the stairs, leaving Jase on the deck behind her. She knew she was supposed to hide, but she wanted to stay near the infirmary. She had to make sure that Simon was doing everything right - she'd promised Jase as much.

She took the chance of standing in the hatch to the cargo bay, watching from above as the footsteps and voices approached.

"Where the hell'd he go?" Ray demanded.

Simon was wondering the same thing himself. He stood just outside the infirmary, staring at the empty bed inside as if it could tell him where his injured and sedated patient had gone. It had been some time since he'd left the infirmary to take Mal up to the bridge, and for a good portion of that time there had been no artificial gravity. As unlikely as it seemed, it was possible that his patient had moved under his own power.

Simon glanced around the corner into the cargo bay and saw a small figure laying on the deck a few meters past the hatch. He didn't wait for Ray, just hurried to kneel next to the boy.

River watched from above when Simon came in to get Jase. Ray was following a few steps behind.

Ray. Pa. Monster.

Ray disgusted her. She wished she could go into his mind, kick and scream till she bruised things, see if she could make him fall apart. Pay him back for all the hurt he'd done.

But she couldn't. She was learning how this worked – she could passively listen to the things in people's minds, that wasn't hard. In fact, that was often difficult to turn off. But in order for her to really get in, to see through their eyes, to talk to them or have some effect on what they were thinking, they had to be weak or sick in a way that made their inner walls go down. Like Jase was now. Like the captain had been on Oeneus.

Ray was healthy and strong, and she couldn't do anything to him. She could listen to his thoughts, but that was one thing she really didn't want to do. She'd seen tension in him before, seen pain, and she'd very nearly pitied him for it. She'd almost forgiven him for hitting the captain, but she knew now that he didn't deserve that. She didn't want to see inside Ray again; she wanted to hate him.

Simon picked up Jase and went back to the infirmary with Ray behind him. River quietly stepped back out onto the catwalk, then crept down the stairs. Simon and Ray were talking, and she wanted to hear.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon lifted the boy carefully, surprised at how light a sixteen year old could be. He was grateful as well – it hurt enough to breathe, carrying a person, even a small one, didn't help his sore ribs.

"He gonna be all right?" Ray asked.

Simon turned and walked past Ray to get to the infirmary, saying as he went, "To be honest, I'm not sure."

Ray followed. "But… that bullet didn't hit nothing important. I seen men hurt much worse than that, up and walkin' about."

"He's feverish, and it's only been a few hours since he was shot. From what I saw of him earlier, I think he was in a weakened state to begin with." Simon laid Jase on the exam table.

"Weakened?" Ray sounded insulted.

"His immune system... He's small, malnourished. The blood loss is–"

"He eats," Ray interrupted defensively. "Damn kid is eatin' all the time."

Simon let it go, this wasn't something he needed to argue about. He focused on removing the old bandage; about halfway through the task, he realized that his patient was awake and watching.

"Simon?" the boy asked faintly.

Simon was surprised to hear his name, surprised that the boy knew it. "Yes, that's me."

"Good doc, huh?" Jase's voice was slurred. "She tol' me you was…"

_She?_

Simon bit back a word that Kaylee would have been proud of. He glanced back at the hatch, at Ray stepping through, listening.

"I'm a very good doctor," Simon told Jase, "and I'm going to make you feel better. But you need to be still. Don't try to speak."

Jase smiled. "She's pretty," he mumbled.

Simon sighed impatiently. Why would his patients never do as he told them? Clearly, it'd be better to leave the bandage for the moment and go straight for a sedative. While he prepared the syringe, he noticed that Ray moved toward the bed, looking at Jase intently.

The boy's eyelids fell closed, but he kept talking. "She can fly."

"Who you talkin' bout?" Ray asked.

Simon tried to deflect the question. "He's delirious."

Ray ignored Simon. He grabbed the boy's jaw, turning his head as if trying to force him to wake up and pay attention. "I asked you who the hell you're talkin' about."

Jase was too far gone to cower at the threatening tone. His smile remained dreamy. "Angel. Said Ma's here." He raised his good arm and laid it on his chest; his fingers tapped against his sternum. "In here. Never wen' away."

Ray's eyes blazed, but he let go of Jase's face and backed off. Simon took the chance to interrupt, stepping up to the bed.

"Please," he told Ray. "If you want him to live, you need to let me work."

Ray didn't look at Simon, but he continued to retreat toward the hatch. Simon watched for a few seconds, surprised at how shaken the man seemed.

.*. .*. .*.

River leaned against the bulkhead next to the hatch, so near the infirmary that she could have leaned to the side and waved at Simon through the window. But she sank to the deck instead, hands over her ears.

She couldn't ignore Ray; suddenly his thoughts were a scream. The things her eyes were seeing went grey, and she followed the wandering of his mind, felt the conflicted waves of emotion that poured out of him.

.*. .*. .*.

Ray didn't argue with the doctor. He backed out of the infirmary, needing to put distance between himself and the boy whose existence had made his life hell for near seventeen years. He found himself wishing that captain had aimed better, that there'd been a quick end to Jase like there had with Hank, instead of it dragging on like this.

So much blood. Wasn't like he'd never seen blood before, but this time it made his insides go to jelly. It was _her_ boy, fading away right in front of him. There was a familiar feel to it, to watching death settle in and knowing that he couldn't do a thing about it. The past ten years, seemed all he did was watch death move along, taking whoever and whatever it liked. Ray should have been used to it by now.

A wobbly voice carried out from the infirmary, faintly singing:

_Fŏng chuī laí di shā_

_Luò zaì beī shāng de yăn lĭ _

Ray clenched his fists, suddenly wanting to go back in there, to pull the little shit off the table and make him shut up. Pound on him till his face looked different and his mouth wouldn't work so good.

But he only stood still, wavering. The rage shook him, but it didn't take over like it usually did. It didn't blind him. He stared into the infirmary; it was something about the doctor. The young man shamed Ray, made him step backward till he ran into a chair. Made him perch his butt on the arm of it and stay put.

The doctor worked without hesitation, hands moving fast and face focused like he knew exactly what to do and had no doubt about it working out right. _I'm going to make you feel better,_ he'd said to Jase, like it was such a gorram easy thing to fix a broken person.

_Sheí doū kān chū wŏ zaì děng nĭ. _

His hands fisted again. The little bastard was doing it on purpose. Jase knew he looked like her; he had to know that he sounded like her too. All the time, Ray felt like the boy was shoving it in his face. _I'm the last bit of her you have, and I ain't even yours. You couldn't provide for her, couldn't even give her a child._

_Fŏng chuī laí di shā_

_Tuī jī zaì xīn lĭ. _

Gorram, but he did sound like her. Lower voice now, but the tone, the lilt of the tune... Ray could picture her, leaning over the exam table like she'd leaned over a crib once. He could smell her too, smell that fancy water she'd brought from her homeworld to rinse out her hair when she bathed.

_Shì sheí yě cā bú qù di hén jī. _

Jase's voice trailed off to silence, but Ray didn't notice. The memory of her scent made the anger pass through him, left him weak and empty, hands hanging loose beside him. Unbidden, the first time he'd seen her came into his mind. He hadn't thought on it in years.

.*. .*. .*.

River tried to pull away. She felt a pressure coming from another direction, a heavy weight of dread that made her stomach ache, made her curl up on the deck and whimper. Something bad was happening to the captain. Something very bad.

She wanted to get up. No good being hidden and safe, not while the captain was feeling like that. She had to get to the bridge, help him. Didn't matter who saw her, she had to make it stop...

But Ray's memories were closer, and already had a hold on her. There wasn't enough medicine in her head to make her numb to this. She was sucked down – the captain's pain faded away, and River lost herself completely inside Ray.

.*. .*. .*.

He must have been a sight, a skinny, awkward young man standing outside the landing dock in Alsvidh, wearing his best clothes and freshly polished boots. The marriage agency had provided a sign, and he held it up in front of him as he anxiously watched the folks coming out of the new arrival's office. She was one of the last, and she stopped in front of him to point at the sign, and told him that was her name. Then she smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He led her straight to the sheriff's office, had the ceremony done right away, and then they took the long ride out to the homestead. Ray had been six months in building the house and getting it ready, trying to make the place worthy to be the home of his future wife. He didn't think it was nice enough for _her_, but inside a week she set it to rights. She had a knack for that kind of thing, for making a home.

Six years passed in a blur. Six seasons of breaking in the fields, building a shed and a barn, buying the ox to help with the plowing. Six years the harvests came in and life was good.

Six years he shared his home and his bed with his wife, but never once in the whole six years did she get with child. He told himself it just wasn't time, that all things come when they were meant to. Anyway, having his home and his wife was enough.

Then came that seventh autumn, when he took his usual trip to the city to trade for the winter's supplies, and an early storm hit. Ray was stuck in Alsvidh for a week. A whole week she was alone, with Ray's little brother Bucky living just a quarter hour walk away from her.

Ray saw how things were when he got back. He saw the looks, felt the change in how she acted, how she pulled away from him. He read the guilt in his little brother's face.

Bucky, always the timid one, always afraid of doing wrong and never able to stand up to his big brother, ran off to the city. Said he was done with farming and wanted to help with their cousin's livestock business, and maybe someday learn about machines and take up work with a cartel. But that wasn't the real why of it; Ray knew better. He saw how his wife sighed and her eyes turned sad when she thought she was alone.

A couple weeks later, she told Ray there was a baby on the way.

Years passed, and he hoped and prayed to hear her say that again. But he knew in his heart that the only offspring he'd ever have wasn't his. He might have accepted that, might have made do. He tried, even let Bucky play the part of uncle, so long as he kept his distance and didn't upset the balance of things.

And then the land began to die.

One autumn night, Ray came in from the withering fields to find his brother visiting unannounced. Jase ran to his "uncle" for a hug, Jase's mom smiled and raved about the supplies that Bucky brought, but Ray just stood quiet and watched.

He kept his peace through supper. After, he took Bucky outside. He told his little brother what he could do with his help. He told him to get back to the city and keep himself there for good. Then Ray went back in to the house, and before he knew it he was shouting at that gorram woman, telling her what he knew about Bucky, and what he knew about Jase.

Things were bad after that. They stayed bad right up till the morning, a year later, that she died. And then things got worse.

.*. .*. .*.

River started at a noise above her – the shuttle was back. She didn't move; the lights were on now, and any motion would draw attention.

Kaylee stepped out of the shuttle first. Her eyes were red; fear and worry rolled off of her in thick waves, but she had it under control. Ginger came out behind her and followed along the catwalk, heading aft toward the engine room. The woman didn't have any violence in her mind; she just wanted to get the ship fixed and move on. That was good. Kaylee wasn't in danger.

Ginger and Kaylee left the cargo bay, and River realized she couldn't feel the captain anymore. No pain, no thoughts, no dreams. Just an emptiness. Like he was really far away, and not on the ship at all.

She didn't know what to do; she was being pulled in too many directions and couldn't get them straight. Helplessly, she fell into Ray's thoughts again.

.*. .*. .*.

A week after she died, Ray beat the boy for singing. Punched him square in the face with a closed fist, like a man might hit another man in a brawl. Not like anyone ought to ever hit a kid.

The guilt nearly choked him. He backed off, then turned and fled from his own gorram house. A neighbor had a horse to lend, and Ray rode like hell to the city. He got there in just over a day, never doubting what he meant to do. Jase wasn't his, and he didn't want him. The boy was another man's problem.

It didn't take long to find the right place, and he pounded on the door. When it opened, his little brother was standing in front of him. Ray took a good long look at Bucky, really seeing him for the first time in years.

Times hadn't been so bad in the city, at least not yet, and Bucky looked good. He had fancy clean clothes, probably from off-world. He'd filled out, and his face wasn't all used up from working outside all the time. He looked a good ten years younger than Ray, though the real difference was only three. Bucky stood his full height, with his shoulders held back wide and strong.

For the first time, Ray realized that his brother was as tall as he was. He saw something else, too: his wimpy little brother was a success, was better than him. He wondered if his wife had known it a long time ago. Suddenly, Ray wanted to hurt Bucky. Wanted to hurt him bad.

"She's dead," Ray said, and he watched the pain spread across Bucky's face. Ray wanted to see more of it. _You stole my wife,_ he thought, _I ain't gonna let you have the boy too. _

"Jase is dead too. Both of em, gone."

Bucky stepped back from the door, seeming to shrink as he slouched, his head and shoulders falling forward as his chest caved in. He looked like the weak little brother he was supposed to be. Ray felt powerful, the rush surged through him and he took a step forward, leaning over Bucky.

"If I ever see you again," he said, "I'll kill you."

Then he turned and left.

When he got back home a day and a half later, the rush was gone, buried under exhaustion and remorse. He looked once at the boy's bruised face and then away. _Won't ever happen again,_ he promised himself. _I can do it, I can bring him up better than anyone. Better than Bucky._

But the rage was relentless. Ray found himself doing it again and again over the years, getting lost in his spite and trying to beat away the accusations he saw in the boy's face. The guilt still came, but he learned to shut it off. Learned how to smother it down where it wouldn't interfere with what he needed to do. Eventually, he didn't feel it anymore. He felt nothing but pains in his gut that came sometimes late at night, that made it impossible for him to sleep or eat.

The guilt rose in his chest now, guilt like he hadn't felt in years. There was no time for it; there never was time for remorse. Only time for taking care of business.

It wasn't easy, keeping a kid alive in this dead place, in a city with no law, where anything one needed for staying alive was scarce. Ray'd had to keep a house secure, worry over finding new clothes as Jase grew, keeping food around when often there was none to be had.

_Malnourished, my ass,_ Ray thought, though in the back of his mind he was seeing the bare cupboards in their kitchen, picturing the barely passable grey sludge Jase fixed himself for dinner, hearing his own voice yelling about the money he had to spend on supplies.

_I did what I could_, he argued. _I gave up plenty._ He never took a break from his crappy life by getting drunk or strung out like other folks did. Ray would have been fine to let himself waste away on the streets, but he couldn't leave her boy alone, not on this hard world. And he couldn't admit to failure, couldn't go find Bucky for help. Anything but that.

So Ray had worked, ever since he and Jase left the homestead, he'd done all he could. He hadn't any know-how worth pay; the only way to earn his keep was with a gun. But Jase complicated that, too. Ray had to pass up on the best jobs, the riskiest ones that paid big, jobs that might have gotten him off of this planet, or at least made the living easier. There was a bundle of money to be made with the drug trade, but Ray wouldn't go near that with her kid leaning on him. Instead, he had to kiss ass with the cartels just to get by.

He worked security when he could get it, and took to only petty crime on the side. But stealing this ship was too good a chance to pass by. It was the closest he'd ever got Jase to a firefight, and now there the boy lay, half bled to death, with some stranger getting set to stitch his torn body back together.

Ray looked into the infirmary again, trying to rein in the feelings that rose in him at the sight. He'd given up on remorse long ago, there was no point to it. He had to deal with the reality that faced him, moment to moment.

And here was the new reality: it might be for the best if the boy'd just die. Just leave him the hell alone.

.*. .*. .*.

Ginger watched the mechanic work, or, really, try to work. The pathetic thing was sitting on the deck next to a hammock; clenching her hands into fists to steady them. She'd been sniffling the whole flight up in the shuttle, and although she wasn't all out crying, her eyes were red and swollen.

How could anyone work with such a sentimental chit? No wonder these people had their ship taken out from under them. Sniffling. That captain must have been hard up to hire such a girl. Or just hard.

"Hey, how'd you get work here?" Ginger asked.

The girl had sat down on the deck and was starting to lean into an open panel, but she paused, looking up in surprise.

"I'm just wonderin'," Ginger said. "How'd you get that captain to hire a puff like you?"

The girl's brow furrowed up, and she answered hesitantly. "I… I fixed it. The engine. I fixed the engine. The reg couple."

"You tellin' me you don't do nothin' else for your captain?"

The girl looked more confused.

"A little helmet shine now and then?"

She understood that, and she actually got angry. "No! Cap would never be like that!"

Ginger snorted. This girl was too gorram green. "All men are like that."

"Not the captain."

The girl aggressively held Ginger's stare for a few seconds, then seemed to realize what she was doing and returned her attention to the ship's workings. But her face was like a window, and Ginger could see that she was still mad.

Ginger thought about it. She had to be tough as nails, both in the military and working out here in the wilds. She could have made use of stuff that other women did: wiles you could call them, if you were being nice. But Ginger wouldn't stand for that. When she took a man, it was because she wanted his body. Wasn't a thing else she'd have from him. Wasn't a thing else a man had to offer that she couldn't earn for herself.

After a while, the girl got up, saying something about needing to shut off the artificial grav system for a bit so she could replace the part, and wanting to warn everyone. Ginger let her talk over the comm, then braced herself in the hatch as the girl crawled into the panel.

Ginger heard a clang when the grav was shut off, and it might have sounded familiar if she'd thought about it more. But she was still busy considering this girl.

She must be real clever with the machines if someone would keep her on when she was no good in a fight and wasn't handing out free passes to her bunk. Wasn't any other reason a captain of a slummy ship like this would have a cute little gal on his crew, not as far as Ginger knew.

It was only a few minutes before a warning sounded, and the grav came back on. Ginger waited till the girl stood up.

"It ain't gonna break again?" Ginger asked.

The girl just shook her head, her mouth pursed a little like she was still miffed.

"Good. Let's get to the bridge. There's a job needs doin'."

They headed out. The preacher was still under the table in the dining hall, looking like he'd made a home of it. He called to the girl as they passed through the room.

"Kaylee?"

"Shepherd?" The girl paused to crouch and look under the table. "You all right?"

"Don't you worry bout him, missy," Ginger said.

"I'm having a rather strange day," the man replied, ignoring Ginger. He gave the girl an encouraging smile before Ginger pushed her along.

As they stepped into the fore corridor, Will came out of the bridge, walking with a spring in his step and a satisfied smile on his face. The girl stopped short when she saw him.

"Ginger, hon – you're just in time!" Will said, then he looked at the girl. "And you must be Kaaay-lee." He drew out the girl's name, and his eyes wandered over her body. Not that Ginger was one to get jealous, but it did annoy her. Now certainly wasn't the time for that.

"Sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you in town," he told the girl. "I was a little busy. Making plans." He flashed his most winning smile, which didn't look so good since his nose had been broke and his mouth was a little bloody. But the girl didn't notice. She didn't even look at him.

"Where you goin', Will?" Ginger asked.

"I have a little business to take care of. Nothing big – shouldn't take long. You take this filly on up to the bridge and keep an eye on the captain." Will's smile widened. "Not that he needs it at the moment, but Ray might worry if he's left alone."

"Where's Ray?" Ginger asked as Will walked past her.

"Down in the infirmary, worrying about that stupid boy."

He passed around the corner, starting a happy whistled tune that faded after him. Ginger never had figured her man's moods. Seemed the oddest things could make him cheery, or turn him pissy as a cat in a rainstorm.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee understood how living on an out-of-the-way planet with nothing to do could make a person want to be someplace else.

Sometimes, she wondered what would have happened if _Serenity_ had never stopped by her own home world. If she hadn't seen the Firefly's first mechanic, Bester, stepping off the ramp. Or if she hadn't followed him to the saloon, wanting to get him talking about his ship and his life out in the Black. If he hadn't been so cute, maybe she wouldn't have taken up his offer for a tour of _Serenity_'s engine room, a tour that turned into something more, and then, when they were interrupted by the captain, turned into something _much_ more.

Most of all, Kaylee wondered what would have happened if anyone but Malcolm Reynolds had been the man who found her being intimate with Bester. Another man might have thrown her right off the ship, machine smarts or no. An even worse kind of man, walking in when he did… well, she tried not to dwell on that. It made her face get warm, to think of the risk she took by following a pretty boy onto his ship, by sexing him up in a dark back room. Bad things might have happened, the kind of things she never even thought could happen to _her_ until she met Jubal Early.

Point was, Kaylee understood how lucky she'd been to meet the captain. Seeing some of the dead end parts of the verse she had in the years since made her count the blessing more. It was easy to get stuck in a bad place with no way out, and natural talent don't always count for much with the people who have it, not unless they get some luck on their side too.

Which is why Kaylee wasn't so ready to hate these people who had taken _Serenity_. They lived on a tough world, and she couldn't see that they'd ever had a good time of it. Like the boy in the parts shop. She thought back on his eyes, and how he'd seemed to be drawing back from her the whole time. She'd taken it as shyness, but now she wondered if he'd been scared.

And then she'd met Xiaojun, and heard her story. How she had such a beautiful life once, and then it all just died. Her husband and her land, gone, leaving her to wander around her shop, alone, for endless years.

Niflheim sure was a hard place, and Kaylee couldn't blame a person one bit for trying to get away. She could even see how they might take to extreme measures. Not that she'd do something like that herself, and she meant to stop them if she could, because _Serenity_ was her home and she didn't want to lose it, but she didn't hate these people.

Not at first, anyway.

She'd been downright scared when Zoë told her how they'd threatened the Shepherd, but the more she'd thought about it, the more she was sure they were just bluffing. Just desperate to get away and find a better life.

She started feeling different when the woman Ginger talked about the captain like he was some lecherous old hump. Taking a man's ship in dire need was one thing, but there was no call to be talking mean about him, attacking his character like that.

But Ginger didn't know, Kaylee told herself. She couldn't know. Maybe she'd only met men who were mean, maybe she'd never been so lucky as to meet someone like _Serenity_'s captain.

When Kaylee saw the Shepherd, his face haggard and dried blood on his neck, tied up under the table like he was just some old cur, she starting getting really mad. He's a _Shepherd_! she thought. And when he gave her a brave smile, showing how his dignity and kindness couldn't be beat down, it warmed her a little, but it also made a place deep inside her feel frozen solid.

And then she saw the man in black – Will was his name – and that's when her idea of these people really changed. Will was smiling and having fun, just like he'd been when she'd seen him before, talking to the boy outside the parts shop in Alsvidh. Will wasn't desperate; he was playing a game. It probably tickled him that he'd given her a flirty smile in town, at the same time that he was plotting to take away her home, hurt her crew, and do his best to ruin her life.

Kaylee didn't say a word to him, didn't even look at him after that first glimpse of his smiling face. She knew she was mad enough to say something really mean, and it wouldn't help a thing to get herself in a fight she couldn't win.

Kaylee let out a cry as soon as she stepped onto the bridge. The captain was in the pilot's seat, bound tight and not moving, his head hanging down over his chest. She ran forward and crouched next to him. He was gagged with a dirty bandanna, and his face was a mess of bruises. Kaylee looked at Ginger once, her eyes narrow, then back at Mal.

"Cap'n? Wake up!" she said, trying to push his head up, but he didn't bat an eye. Kaylee felt her anger get all covered over with fear.

"Cap'n? Oh no…" She looked up at Ginger again. "What'd you do to him?"

The woman didn't answer, just looked at Kaylee blankly. Kaylee moved around the back of the chair, started pulling at the tight knot of the bandanna.

"There's no call to be doin' this," Kaylee muttered. "Never any excuse to be treatin' a man like this…"

She finally got the gag off and looked at the captain's face again. He was so still – she couldn't even see him breathing, like he was dead. A heavy sob escaped her, and she knelt down, put her ear to his chest and held her breath while she listened: a faint heartbeat, and, real slow and shallow, a breath taken in.

Kaylee sat back, momentarily weak with relief. She wished like hell Simon was here. Cap'n seemed barely alive to her, but maybe he wasn't as bad off as he looked. Simon would know for sure. She started working on the knotted ropes, half expecting Ginger to stop her, but when she felt a tap on the shoulder and turned around, Ginger was holding a knife with the handle out.

"Don't be gettin' no ideas," the woman said. "I still got a gun on you. Just get him loose, then put the knife down real nice."

Kaylee hesitated, half afraid of a trick, then she took the knife. She only had to cut a few ropes, then she tossed the knife behind her without a care for where it landed. She pulled the bindings away, and had to scramble to catch the captain as he slid out of the chair. He was heavy, completely limp, and she just managed to control his fall as he sprawled to the deck.

"Guess we'll need the doc to wake him up again," Ginger said impatiently, and started walking around Kaylee and the captain so she could reach the comm.

"Again?" Kaylee asked. Deep on the inside, she felt her anger flare up and thought she must be turning red all over. She felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks. "Yāo guài! What've you been doin' to him?"

Ginger stopped short of the comm and stared at the captain; she seemed a mite uncomfortable "Look, girl, he was fine when I left. I didn't have nothin' to do with this."

Kaylee looked at Mal, and though she was still mad as anything, her heart broke. The man who'd done so much for her, laying here helpless and maybe dying, on his own ship. She couldn't hold back a sob.

"Please, get Simon," she said. "The doctor – get him to help."

She looked up, but Ginger didn't activate the comm; she just stood and watched. "Kaylee, huh?" she asked.

Kaylee nodded.

"You're all tore up bout this." The woman actually had the nerve to smile. "You still tellin' me you and him ain't bumpin' uglies?"

"No!" Kaylee snapped, and her anger came out full force. "He's the captain!" She couldn't remember ever being so mad. She'd never wanted to hurt a person before, but she did now. She thought about the weapon Xiaojun had given her, felt the little metal disk hidden in her shoe, laying against the sole of her foot, and she wondered just how much of a jolt it carried.

Ginger frowned. "So what?"

"Cap'n takes care a' us." Kaylee took Mal's hand, held it tight. "He's the best man there ever was."

Mal might have heard her; suddenly he took a deep breath, his head tipping back and chest heaving like he'd just figured out how to work his lungs. Kaylee let go of his hand when he rolled away from her, laying on his side and coughing. She rubbed his back, hoping it'd help, and waited till he'd near caught his breath before she leaned over him.

"Cap'n?"

He rolled to his back again, eyes slowly focusing on her.

"Li'l Kaylee?"

"Yóu yú shàng dì!" she gasped.

He raised a hand to wipe at his mouth, like he was clearing a bad taste away. Then he asked in a thick, sleepy voice, "What's goin' on?"

"This lady here," Kaylee glanced at Ginger with a nod, "she brought me up from planetside. I had to fix the grav. They said they'd hurt Shepherd Book if I didn't."

He followed her focus and studied Ginger. After a pause, he lifted a hand, snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

"Ginger?"

The woman looked like she thought he was making fun of her. She sneered. "Yeah."

"Right."

He tried to sit up, but didn't make it. Kaylee caught him and lowered him onto his back real careful.

"Maybe you ought'a stay layin' down for a bit, Cap'n."

"Think so?" he asked, his eyelids heavy. "Yeah, could be... Need to fly the ship though. Idiots'll crash it." He forced his eyes open and looked out the windows. "When'd it get dark? We out'a atmo already?"

"Yeah, we're in low orbit – " Kaylee started, but he interrupted her.

"Right, right. Grav broke, I fixed it." He tried to sit up again, with more success this time, then sat looking around the bridge.

"What is it?" Kaylee asked.

"I'm feelin' a mite fuzzy." He wiped his face, swiping hard at his mouth again. Then he looked at her, and Kaylee felt the intensity of his stare as he studied her face. "They hurt you?"

"No. No one's touched me."

"That's good." He had another look around the bridge, like he was searching for something, then he focused on Ginger. "I did fix the ship already, right?"

"Girl here had a new part, to fix it for good. And now it's time to move on. Job to do." She nodded to the pilot's seat, motioning for him to get into it.

Kaylee saw that he didn't get the hint. He just sat on the deck, still looking confused, then turned his head to the hatch leading to the rest of the ship. He stared like he was trying to see something happening off that way.

"You all right, Cap'n?" Kaylee asked.

"Yeah, I just… I think there was somethin'…" He looked up, stared at the comm, but there was no comprehension in his face.

"Whatever it is, it'll wait," Ginger said. Her gun wasn't pointed right at them, but her message was clear. "Get to the helm, I'll tell you where to go."

He looked up at her again, then nodded and pulled himself into the pilot's seat.

.*. .*. .*.

As the captain climbed into the chair, Ginger found herself wondering why he was so out of it. He'd seemed right chipper last time she saw him, when he was headed back to fix the ship's artificial gravity. He'd been chock full of smart talk for Will and Ray; the man clearly didn't have a lick of sense about self-preservation. But he'd ended up alone on the bridge with Will, gagged with what she recognized as Will's bandanna. Wasn't hard to work the rest out, and that explained why Will'd been looking so cheery.

Ginger shook her head. Her man really was a bastard sometimes. With a sense of foreboding and annoyance, she wondered what business he'd been so happy about going off to take care of.

She'd have to figure it out later. "Outer edge of the rings," she told the captain, "middle of the night side. And keep clear of the cartel platforms." She stayed toward the back of the bridge where she could see them both, but her attention was drawn to Kaylee. The girl had gone to sit in the co-pilot's seat, where she was staring at Ginger with venom in her eyes, and, oddly, fiddling with her shoe.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
yāo guài: monster; devil  
yóu yú shàng dì: thank God

Fŏng chuī laí di shā  
Luò zaì beī shāng de yăn lĭ  
Sheí doū kān chū wŏ zaì děng nĭ.  
Fŏng chuī laí di shā  
Tuī jī zaì xīn lĭ  
Shì sheí yě cā bú qù di hén jī.

The sand that is blown by the wind  
Falls into sad eyes  
Everyone can see that I am waiting for you.  
The sand that is blown by the wind  
Piles up in the heart  
Sand leaves marks that cannot be erased by anyone.  
- from Kū shā (Crying Sand) by Tracy Huang

* * *

Chapter 15.

_The planet P23-657 needed a name. Eileen and Edward Verdande, as the only people in the verse with an active interest in the remote planet, drew from the mythology of Ed's Nordic heritage:_

Niflheim: The world of cold and darkness. From Niflheim  
flowed the eleven ice-cold rivers, the Elivagar, from which  
life first emerged.

_They chose the name because the surface of the world was, indeed, cold and dark. Clouds of sulfur and methane gas blocked out the sun's rays, and the corrosive atmosphere was a large part of the reason the planet had been passed by for terraforming._

_Because the planet was so inhospitable, living quarters, refineries, and all the infrastructure needed to support mining crews and cartel staff had to be constructed in orbit, all at great expense. There were further delays while contracts were signed for the transport and processing of the mined lithium dubniate, and agreements were negotiated with the computer manufacturers who would be buying the final products. In the end, it took nearly twenty years after the mineral rights to Niflheim were purchased before the infant cartel finally established its mining trade. It was twenty difficult years of alternating hope and despair, and the Verdandes were never sure if they'd lose everything or come out ahead. _

_Finally, when it was all settled, the success of the venture was beyond their wildest hopes. There was a first heady rush, creditors repaid and wealth amassing as the Verdande family expanded into other markets and generally enjoyed the thrill of being the newest Movers and Shakers of an expanding human empire. Ed and Eileen Verdande got used to having the best of everything. They greeted Parliament members by their first names, and had biographies and documentaries made about their rise to glory. _

_As they settled into their success, the second part of the mythological Niflheim's definition came back to the couple: "from which life first emerged." If their planet was carefully nurtured and lovingly guided through its infancy and childhood, they thought, it could be a new life. It could rival Greenleaf for natural beauty, Sihnon for the grace and elegance of its culture, and Londinium for its industry. And, they reasoned, it was located so far from the Core that it would never be brought down by overpopulation and the associated evils of high crime, pollution, and black markets in human beings and illegal drugs. _

_At great expense, using all the political clout of their cartel, they won enough backers in Parliament to have Niflheim considered for terraforming. The plan took years to gain approval, and there was another long wait before a large enough crew could be spared to tackle the special challenges of the remote planet. Eileen didn't survive to see the terraforming crews arrive, but Ed Sr. watched from orbit as the face of the planet began to change._

_A few months before he died, Ed Sr. walked the surface of Niflheim, and slipped off his mask to breathe an atmosphere which still had the noxious tang of sulfur. It burned in his lungs, but he convinced himself that it tasted wonderful._

.*. .*. .*.

"Cap'n?"

Mal turned to Kaylee. She returned his look for a few seconds, like she wanted to say something, then bit her lip and glanced toward the back of the bridge.

"Spit it out," Mal prompted without looking at the woman who stood silently behind them. "She'll speak up if she don't like you sayin' anything in particular."

Kaylee glanced back one more time before she spoke, her voice low but a little forced. "I was just wonderin'…" She stopped and swallowed hard, doubt in her eyes.

"What is it?" Mal asked softly.

"I saw the Shepherd, in the dinin' room, and he's been hurt. Not too bad, but… well, you been all beat-up too. I was just wonderin' if… I was wonderin' where Simon's at."

Mal studied her face. She didn't look like his little Kaylee should. The wet shine in her eyes wasn't a surprise – she'd been brought into a bad situation, and Mal knew that she was more than a little sweet on the young doctor. It was natural she'd be worried. But there was something different about her, a hard set to her jaw and a deep down shake to her voice that wasn't right.

"You keep yourself cool, Kaylee. Doc's just fine."

Mal had to force himself not to look away from her when he said it. Truthfully, he wasn't even sure where Simon had got to, or who was with him. Last Mal remembered seeing the doctor was… hell, when had it been?

"He ain't hurt bad?" Kaylee asked.

Mal looked away from her, realizing that he wasn't entirely sure about the answer to that. Vaguely, he recalled Simon's voice, gasping: _Just bruises… possibly a cracked rib or two… _

"He had a few knocks," Mal replied, "but nothin' he can't handle." He looked back at her, trying his best to be reassuring. "He'll be all right."

Kaylee nodded and looked away. Mal hoped that would be enough to satisfy her for now; he wasn't up to providing details. He returned his attention to the console to check the course he'd set. _Serenity_ was heading toward the outer edge of the rings, and it would take a few minutes to get there. He had time to think things over, to try to pin this down.

When had he seen Simon last? Mal remembered 'fixing' the grav drive, then…

He had to close his eyes and concentrate, forcing himself to picture it.

_I came back here… Will was sitting at the pilot's seat. Simon was… Simon was curled up in the nose of the ship. Lookin' beat up. That's when he told me about his ribs. What happened next?_

Nothing came, and Mal's thoughts started wandering, thinking how Simon had put up a fight against armed men, even though he'd been alone and nauseated by weightlessness. Boy was awful stupid, even with all that schooling. Boy was awful brave, too.

Mal pulled himself back on track with an effort.

_Focus. What the hell happened next? I… I got Simon up, helped him to the co-pilot's chair._

The co-pilot's chair. Mal glanced at Kaylee, who still had her eyes fixed on something far away. He should come up with some clever way to ask her about Zoë, Wash, and Jayne. They had to be up to something, if only he could ask without Ginger figuring it out…

_Cut it out. What was next? I moved Simon to the co-pilot's seat… Kaylee! He told me how Kaylee was being brought here. And Will…_

The next memory was vague, fuzzy with his own rage. He'd been punching someone. He remembered pinned a body to the deck and hitting, hard as he could…

Then he woke up on the deck with Kaylee leaning over him, feeling like he hadn't drawn a deep breath in hours.

_There's a gap, after I was hitting – it was Will, I got him pinned, beat on him, and then…_

Nothing.

Mal tried to think on it more, to figure out what was working his nerves so bad, but he kept getting distracted. It was like there a slippery place in his mind where his thoughts wouldn't go. He couldn't even focus enough to work out the question he was trying to answer. There wasn't really a problem here, was there? He'd jumped into a fight with Will and Ray had knocked him out. Simple enough.

But there wasn't any sore spot on the back of his head. No headache at all. He did have a sour taste in his mouth, a slight jitter in his hands, and a weakness in his muscles that he couldn't shake off. The feeling reminded him of something. Made him think of Adeli Niska.

Mal realized that his eyes were fixed on a cord on the console, one that ran to a lamp; it had been cut clean through. He looked down and saw the live end of it lying on the deck, so he pulled the plug. It wasn't safe having a bare wire sitting out like that. Could hurt someone.

He held the cut cord up, and his uneasiness increased.

"Somethin' special you plan on doin' with that?" Ginger asked from behind him.

Mal frowned and shrugged. "Not a thing," he replied. He looked at the cord one more time, then threw it aside and wiped his hand on his leg like he'd been holding something slimy.

"Good," Ginger said. "We almost there?"

Mal glanced at the display. "Another minute."

"All right. Stay sittin' where you are, I need to make a call." She came forward and took down the comm unit, then stepped back, stretching the wire so she'd have some distance from Mal and Kaylee while she talked.

.*. .*. .*.

_Ray?_

Ray started when Ginger's voice came through the comm, then lifted his head to look into the infirmary. The doctor was watching him, sitting on a stool with his hand poised above the exam table, a small curved needle in his fingers with a thread running down to Jase's shoulder.

Ray felt like he'd just woken up from a heavy sleep. He stood up stiffly, then walked into the infirmary to get to the comm.

"What is it?" he replied to Ginger.

_Ship's all fixed, and the captain says we'll be gettin' to the harvester soon. Time to seal off the cargo bay._

"I'm busy. Will can do it."

_Will's off someplace._

"Doin' what?"

_Didn't say. I figured you knew._

Ray closed his eyes and wiped his face. He was so gorram tired. "Go find him."

_I got two people up here, the captain and the mechanic. I can't leave em' alone._

Ray paused to think about it. He couldn't leave the doc walking around free; if he was to go looking for Will, he'd have to tie the young man up and interrupt Jase's treatment again. Wouldn't go good with the boy. There was only so much a half-starved and half-bled out body could take. Ray looked to the exam table; Jase was completely out, looking pale and lying still like he was dead already.

If Jase died, Ray would lose the last bit of that woman he had left. Maybe it wasn't a bad thing; he could let that part of his life go, and he'd be free. He could finally do as he liked, and not have this burden any longer.

Funny – the thought didn't make him feel good. Not at all. But it was out of his hands now.

"You stay put," he told Ginger over the comm. "I'll get Will."

.*. .*. .*.

Simon tried to find a position that wouldn't pain his bruised and likely fractured ribs, but there wasn't one. He finally gave up and sat still, breathing as carefully as he could. His hands were taped together, and also taped to one of the seats that folded down from the bulkhead just inside the infirmary hatch. He still had his surgical gloves on, covered in blood. Ray hadn't allowed him time to do anything but tie off the last suture.

"Simon?"

He looked up when he heard his whispered name. River stepped through the hatch in a crouch, tentative and wide-eyed as a hunted deer.

"River? What are you – "

She flinched and raised her hands over her ears. "Shh! Too much! Please, so loud now. Can't do it anymore." She curled up next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. It hurt a little, but he was more concerned that he couldn't hug her back, not with his hands bound.

"Need more medicine," she said into his shoulder. "Ma's gone. Pa turned into a monster. Too loud."

_Oh, dìyù_, Simon thought. He'd find a way to explain how he got loose. "River, you need to help me get my hands free."

She continued like she couldn't hear him. "Walls won't stay," she mumbled. "Tore down, never fixed right. Melting walls. No control. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't warn her. Then the pain…"

"Mèi mei… can you get into the drawer? Over there. River, please!"

"Had to put the memory away… But they come back. The smell of her… miss her so much."

"River, I need the scissors, so I can get free and help you. Do you understand?"

Finally, she replied to him with a nod. She got up and found the scissors, but instead of cutting him free she put them in his gloved hand and turned away. Simon couldn't stop himself from pausing to stare at his sister as she climbed onto the exam table, lying down along the edge of it.

"Think about the good day," he heard her whisper, and Simon knew she wasn't talking to him. "Trees and the pretty sky and songs. I need the good day."

.*. .*. .*.

Ray didn't know much about ships, but he wasn't stupid. He noticed the open hatch off the catwalk in the cargo bay, and remembered that it that hadn't been open before. He wasn't sure where it led, but he had an idea that he might find Will there.

He stopped just outside, taking in the warm light that spilled out of the room. He saw heavy curtains of dark fabric, golden light, and artsy things on pedestals. Stuff that didn't belong anywhere near this ship. He drew his gun and stepped through the hatch.

There was a body lying still just inside; it was Will. Ray nudged him with his foot. The man was breathing, but didn't respond to the prod.

Against the far wall sat a young woman with dark curly hair, wearing a peach gown of a sort that Ray had never seen, fancy and rich-looking. She had her knees drawn up, hugging them to her chest. She also had a darkening bruise on her cheek. She didn't get up, just looked at him with empty eyes. Ray hadn't been working with Will all that long, just a few months. He couldn't say he knew the man well, but he had a good idea as to what had happened here.

"He have a go at you?" he asked the woman.

She looked at him blankly, and for a second he thought she didn't understand. Then she nodded. He looked back at Will, then at the woman again. "And you knocked him out?"

Another nod.

Ray walked nearer to her, keeping his gun pointed at the floor. She looked all delicate and pretty, and didn't have much in the way of muscle.

"Now how exactly'd a thing like you manage that?"

The woman swallowed hard, and finally gathered herself enough to speak. "It's not always about strength," she said, her voice soft and rich, her words carefully pronounced. Ray couldn't rightly explain why, but he believed her. Maybe it was her dignity. She seemed beyond doubt.

"Did… did he hurt you?" he asked.

The woman gave a short laugh, like she was insulted by the question. "He wasn't expecting me to defend myself," she said in a stronger voice. Then her face slowly went blank again, and she asked distantly, "Did I kill him?"

"No, he's still breathin'."

She was quiet for a bit, as if deciding how she felt about that.

"Oh," she finally said. "I guess that's good. I wouldn't like to be a killer." When she said the last part, she looked up at Ray, looked him in the eye like she was accusing him of something.

"Ain't my favorite thing either," he said. But she held his eye still, her expression telling him that he was less than human. He glanced around the room, wanting to escape that stare.

"This place wasn't here before," he said. "Where xactly'd you come from?"

"This is my shuttle. I returned from an appointment."

"Anyone know you were comin'?"

"I waved." Her voice shook when she said that, and she paused to swallow hard before she continued. "No one responded."

"Guess Will there heard you."

The woman didn't answer. She clasped her hands together in front of her knees like she was bracing herself, then she asked in a voice that was forcibly calm and steady, "Is he really… dead?"

Ray paused, confused. Maybe this lady wasn't all there. He glanced at Will, then back at her. "I just told you, he's breathin' – "

"Not him. The captain. The captain of this ship."

He frowned. "Where'd the hell'd you get that idea?"

A strangled sound came out of her throat and she dropped her head, staring down into her lap. Ray waited, stood still until she pulled herself together enough to speak again.

"He told me Mal was dead," she said softly, not looking up.

Ray turned and frowned at Will's still form, sorely tempted to go over and give the bastard a few hard kicks.

"Your captain's just a little beat up is all."

"You're sure?" she looked up at him, naked hope on her face.

"He's on the bridge – flyin' this thing right now."

The woman crumbled; she buried her head in her arms and sobbed.

The sight of her crying twisted something in Ray, and he couldn't do anything but stand and wait for her to stop. He felt sick. He hadn't planned on this. It was supposed to be simple: just take a gorram ship. He'd assumed it'd be crewed by a bunch of rough hands, the sort he was used to seeing on Niflheim. Just a few folks who'd cower down at the sight of a gun, then sit quiet till the job was done. He never thought anyone'd make such a fuss as this bunch was doing, never considered that he'd have to see someone all torn up like this lady was.

He didn't like how he was feeling; he wanted it to stop. He stepped closer to her, and when she looked up, he motioned with his gun for her to stand up. "This really is all kinds a' fun," he said, "but I got no more time to chat. I can't leave you here. Come on."

.*. .*. .*.

Simon fumbled with the scissors as he tried to reach the tape on his wrists; the gloves on his hands were slick with congealing blood. It took a few minutes before he worked himself free, then he stood up and stepped to the table.

River had pulled the unconscious boy's right arm away from him so she could nestle against his side, her head resting on his healthy shoulder. She had her arm wrapped around his waist, and appeared to be fast asleep.

"This is something I don't need to know about right now," Simon said to himself. He stripped the surgical gloves off, then turned away to prepare a fresh batch of smoothers for her. River opened her eyes when he gave her the injection, turning her head to look at him. She was calmer than she'd been. When he finished and she had her arm back, she hugged the boy again.

"You can't let him die," she said.

"I'll do all I can," Simon replied, but instead of hurrying to put a bandage over the boy's wound, he found himself standing still, watching his little sister. She looked at Jase's face and smiled, nearly beaming.

"He's nice," she said.

Simon sighed. "The ship is held by violent criminals, and you're busy making a boyfriend of one of them?"

She turned her head and gave him a _silly-big-brother_ frown. "We just met. Not my boyfriend."

"I certainly hope not." He put a hand against her cheek. "Are you okay?"

She smiled. "I'll be all right. There were too many bad things, all at once."

"Have you been hiding?"

"Of course." But the glint in her eyes said something else, said that she'd been making mischief. Simon decided not to pursue it; there were too many things to think about as it was.

"If you're feeling better, I want you to go hide again," he told her firmly. "And don't come out, no matter what. These are bad people, River. They'll hurt you."

"Not all bad," she said. She rested her head on the boy's shoulder again and twisted a finger in his hair. "He's not. Still has a chance to be whole. That's why you can't let him die."

Simon looked at the boy and remembered that he had a task to finish. He turned away from River to get some gauze and tape.

"Don't get too fond of him," he said, suddenly feeling tired. "I don't know how much I can help."

"Promise you'll do your best?" River asked as she slid off the bed.

"I always do, mèi mei."

.*. .*. .*.

For a good solid minute, Inara had no control over herself. It wasn't something that happened often. She hadn't felt much more than disgust when Will was stalking her; she hadn't even been overcome when she'd believed that Mal was dead. That had just made her feel numb, empty inside.

But hearing that he was alive…

After a while, she became aware that the tall, gaunt man was still watching her, standing closer than before. His face looked hard, like he'd never felt an emotion in his life, but Inara didn't believe that. His patience with her suggested something different.

He noticed her looking at him. "This really is all kinds a' fun," he said, "but I got no more time to chat. I can't leave you here. Come on."

Inara nodded and wiped her face. She stood up, her legs shaking and her head light. She took a few awkward steps to the divan and grabbed her robe, hoping that the time it took to put it on would help her find some strength.

It didn't. She looked at the man, trying to stall.

"Where are we going?" she asked. She couldn't stop her hands from shaking, so she clasped them together in front of her.

"I got a few things to do, you can help out," he answered. "And uh… I'm a little more prepared than Will there. I don't mean to hurt you, but I will if you try anything like that on me." His voice lacked the threat of his words, like he was saying it just because it was expected of him.

"I'll behave," she said, then started toward the hatch. She noticed that he backed away from her, keeping his distance. He meant it then, he wouldn't be leaving her an opening like the man in black – like Will – had.

She paused next to Will. "What about him?"

The other man shrugged. "He'll do just fine where he is." But he didn't move, just stared down at the unconscious man, then back up at her. "How'd you do it?" he asked.

At first she wasn't sure what he meant, then she understood. "There are many soft places on a man," she explained distantly. "You don't need to hit hard, if you aim well."

He smiled at her, and Inara blinked in surprise. The expression didn't fit his face. He looked a little shocked by it himself, but then his features settled into it.

"Gotta say, lady, I never liked him much. If things were different, I might buy you a drink."

At first Inara frowned in confusion, not sure what to make of him. But then she found herself smiling back.

"I could use a drink."

His smile faded as he studied her face. "This ain't how I wanted it to go," he said softly, then he looked away, like he hadn't meant to say that.

Inara might have said something about intentions, but she didn't. "What's your name?" she asked.

He hesitated, then answered. "Ray."

She didn't respond, just nodded to him and walked out of the shuttle.

.*. .*. .*.

"Captain's not all right," River told Simon. She was sitting on the counter across the exam table from her brother, watching him finish the bandaging. The medication was working, and she was able to think clearly again, to separate the voices. But she was very tired. It was hard work.

He looked up at her. "The captain?" he asked. "Is he injured?"

"Bruises. You saw those already."

River sighed. She felt Simon looking at her, but she only stared at the floor. She didn't know how to explain. "No control," she mumbled. "Had to shut down, close off. Only way to avoid damage."

"What does that mean?" Simon asked.

She looked up at him. "Sometimes forgetting is the only safe thing to do."

Simon tore off the tape, then turned away to set it down on the counter behind him. He didn't understand. Of course not; he couldn't. She sat silently while he finished.

"Can you tell if Kaylee is on board?" he asked.

His voice was even, but River could see the worry behind his question. "Yes," she answered, and she raised a hand to rub her forehead. She rubbed hard; she didn't like what she was sensing. "Very angry. Toy in her shoe. Not a fun toy. Not for playing."

Simon was looking at her again; he still didn't understand. And he probably wouldn't, no matter how many different words she used. But she kept going, telling him the other things she knew.

"Book has a headache. Needs to go to the head. Inara is… " She stopped.

Simon froze. "Inara?"

"Came back early. Will was waiting."

River immediately regretted saying it. Simon was better off not knowing, since there was nothing he could do about it now. But he'd want to help anyway, because that's how he was.

"Will?" Simon asked, and River felt a wave of anger rise inside him. She wasn't used to seeing that in her brother. He really didn't like Will. Nobody did.

"What did he do to her?" Simon asked.

River felt her eyes starting to tear when she thought about Inara, so she turned her face away from Simon. It wasn't her place to explain. He probably wouldn't understand anyway.

"Can't look, Simon. Not now."

Simon looked up in the direction of Inara's shuttle, as if he'd be able to see through the walls. "Is she hurt?"

River held her hands over her face. "No. Sloppy. Bù zhī tiān gāo dì hòu. Arrogant. Good for Inara, easy to play." River didn't open her eyes, but she knew what Simon was doing – he was considering the array of scalpels he had available, wondering which would make the best weapon. River lifted her head and jumped off the counter.

"No! Nothing you can do. Finish Jase."

"But... it's Inara. She's on our crew, and this boy is just…"

"Can't think that way. Trust me. She doesn't need help from you. The real hurt is in her heart. Not yours to fix."

River watched her brother take a deep breath, saw how he winced at the pain in his ribs, and she saw that he'd stay. Simon wasn't foolish; he wasn't able to put up a fight right now, and he knew it. He nodded to her, and River wandered back to the exam table.

Jase was pale as a sheet. Even his mind was far away, too far for her to reach. River knew Simon was doing all he could, but a body this weak was difficult to help. Blood was running low. No blood, no fight.

"It's time for you to go hide," Simon said.

"Not yet," she replied. "One more thing for me to do." She lifted Jase's hand and met Simon's eye. He knew exactly what she meant. After all, she'd gotten the idea from him, even though he hadn't said it out loud.

"No," he said. "You've been here for too long already. You have to go."

She stiffened her jaw and glared at him. "Then you better get started." She pulled a stool up next to the bed and laid her arm out on the edge of it, rotated up to bare the veins on the inside of her elbow. Simon still hesitated, and River sighed impatiently. "Same type," she said. "I don't need all I have. Not as much as he does."

It was the right thing to do, and Simon knew it. River glared at him until he gave in. She held back her victorious grin – well, most of it, and sat quietly while Simon started the transfusion. He was just finishing and stepping away when River saw two people in the hatch.

"Hey, Inara," she said casually.

Simon whirled around, and his face turned pale when he saw Inara standing with Ray behind her.

"You could have warned me," Simon said softly.

River smiled – there was nothing to worry about, she had it under control. Simon didn't know that; he was always a little slow to keep up with things.

But then, most people were.

.*. .*. .*.

Ray took the woman along a winding path, stopping at each hatch that opened into the cargo bay so she could latch and seal it. He'd told her how the outer doors of the bay would need to be opened, letting in the hard emptiness of space, and they'd all be dead if she didn't close things off right. She didn't argue.

They left the bay through the hatch near the infirmary. Ray wanted to stop by, see how things were going. See if Jase was gone yet. When he looked through the window into the little room, he grabbed the lady's arm and pushed her ahead of him until the reached the door. A young girl was sitting next to the bed, a red tube running out of her arm. The tube connected to a bag, then ran down to Jase.

"Hey, Inara," the girl said.

Her casual tone confused the hell out of Ray, and he stood dumbfounded, barely hearing a few words exchanged between the doctor and the girl. He turned to the lady.

"She come here with you?"

The woman's response was a look of such genuine confusion that he ruled that possibility out. He pushed her into the infirmary so he could keep an eye on her.

"You got a friend, Doc?" he asked.

"She's just a passenger," the man replied. "She's been hiding. For some reason, she thought one of you people might hurt her."

"I wonder why I'd think that," the girl said in a saucy tone. "Do you know, Simon?" She looked pointedly at the bruise on the side of the doctor's face. He answered her with a frown and a shrug.

Ray's eyes narrowed at their sarcasm. Gorram if they weren't making fun of him. He held up his gun, noticing how the doctor looked alarmed at the sight, but the girl just watched him with open curiosity.

"So why ain't you hidin' now?" he asked. _And why ain't you scared of me?_ he didn't ask.

She looked at him, and her eyes cut into him like she was some kind of witch, like she could see into his soul.

"Mĕi Líng," she said softly, and Ray straightened in shock. "That was her name," the girl continued, her head tipped to the side and an expression on her face like this was something she was just learning. She lifted her eyes to him. "You called her Mĕi."

Ray felt the blood draining from his face. He motioned at Jase with his gun. "He told you that," he said. "It was you he was talkin' about – "

"No," she interrupted. "He only calls her Ma." She looked at Jase and took his limp hand in hers. When she looked up again, staring straight at Ray without a hint of fear or concern, he felt a little hint of the rage licking at the edge of his mind, like flame just taking hold of paper.

"Um… River…" the doctor said, staring at Ray's face. The young man took a few steps forward, putting himself between Ray and the girl as if he meant to protect her with his own life.

Ray lifted his gun, waved it at the doctor. "Move," he mumbled.

The doctor stayed put, but the girl's hand gripped his elbow and pushed him aside.

"It's _okay_, Simon," she said impatiently, and now she sounded like an ordinary teenager, bratty and know-it-all.

"What else'd he tell you 'bout me?" Ray asked.

"Nothing, really. Told about himself. You told about you."

"I ain't never…" He glanced at the two others in the room, the pretty woman and the doctor, to make sure they were keeping their distance. They were playing him, they had to be. Setting him up for something. But neither of them had made a move toward him.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" he asked the girl. "I ain't never even seen you."

"I saw you. Saw everything," she replied, and then she shook her head, looking sad, looking like she almost pitied him, and her voice was soft when she said, "You're a bad man. A very bad man."

Ray opened his mouth to argue, but he didn't know where to start. Sure he'd done some hard things, but it'd been for the best. Hadn't it?

"River, you're not helping…" the doctor said, edging toward the girl, but she didn't answer. Her eyes stayed on Ray.

"But I understand why you're bad," she said.

Ray didn't know what it was about this girl, but she sounded like she knew. Not like she forgave him – there was no pardon in her voice. But her eyes stayed on him, glowing like she was seeing things that no one else had ever known about him.

And that would be something - to have someone who understood. Someone who knew those things long past, who could see the invisible scars he carried from hurts he hadn't deserved. If someone knew that he hadn't always been what he was now...

Ray shook his head, and clamped down on the feeling of need; it made him weak. "You stay out of my business," he snapped at the girl. "You don't know a gorram thing bout me."

"Please," the doctor said, stammering in his worry over the girl. "Look at her, she's… she's harmless. She's only here to help."

The woman's plea followed right after the doctor's. "Ray, these two have been in here, free, for some time," she said. "They haven't tried anything. It appears they've just been treating this boy."

Ray glanced at the doctor, aware of the dried blood on his face, the way he held his body stiffly like it hurt him to move. He didn't have to look at the woman; he could picture the swollen redness of her eyes, and the sound of her crying still rang in his ears. Gorram accusations, coming at him from everywhere. As if Ray didn't know that he'd gone astray. As if he didn't know that, at the heart of it, he was the cause of all this. Including Jase. Especially Jase.

He took in a deep breath and ground his teeth at the thought. He'd known it in the back of his mind, known it for a long, long time. This boy may not have come from Ray's own body, but he could have been a son just the same. Ray'd never even tried to take him in that way. Not really. He had failed. He'd failed Jase, and he'd failed Mĕi. Probably even failed Bucky, if you viewed it in a certain light. He'd failed as a farmer, and didn't make much of a criminal either. He'd never done a single thing right.

But he was going to fix the one thing he still could. The boy was alive; there was a chance to make things work out. This job - he had to see it through to the end. There wasn't anyone gonna stop him from doing it.

Suddenly, Ray felt alive, aware, and more awake than he'd been in years. Like a cloud had lifted from his eyes, and he could finally see clearly. He had his opportunity; it was right in front of him. He wasn't going to miss it. No way. He backed out of the infirmary, then motioned at the woman to follow him.

"You two stay here," he told to the doctor and the girl. "Keep him breathin'. This is gonna work out fine – just don't let him die." He paused for a second, thinking about the chance he was taking by leaving these two free. But it was only a half-beaten doctor and a skinny little girl; they couldn't be a danger.

"Once this hatch closes," he told them, "it best not open again." He was speaking faster than he ever did – energy surged through him, and he couldn't slow himself down. "Stay put, and don't make me sorry I'm leavin' you here like this."

He swung the door closed and latched it, then turned to the woman.

"Inara, huh?"

"Yes."

"Bridge, and move it," he ordered.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara entered the bridge in front of Ray, and she had to stop with a hand against the bulkhead to hold herself up. Mal was there, alive. He was at the helm with his back to her, his attention focused on the console.

"Inara!" Kaylee gasped. She was in the co-pilot's seat, sitting with her knees up and her arms wrapped around them, hands clenched to her elbows. Mal sat up straight when he heard Kaylee speak, then slowly turned around. His eyes met Inara's for a barely a second, then he looked away. His face was shadowed, and Inara couldn't make out his expression.

Motion caught her eye; a strange woman stood off to Inara's left. She had shoulder length iron gray hair and eyes just as hard as the pistol in her hand. She gave Inara a hostile glare, then turned to Ray for an explanation.

The two strangers exchanged words, but Inara wasn't listening. She waited until the rush of blood in her ears quieted and the worst of the weakness in her legs passed, then she took a few hesitant steps forward. When no one stopped her, she continued on. It was Mal's arms that she wanted to fall into, but he stayed in the pilot's chair, not looking at her again. Kaylee stood and held out her hands, and Inara gratefully accepted the embrace.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
dì yù: hell  
mèi mei: little sister  
bù zhī tiān gāo dì hòu: not know the immensity of heaven and earth (have an exaggerated opinion of one's abilities)


	6. Part 6 of 9

**Easy Tickets: Part 6/9 (Chapters 16-18)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

* * *

Chapter 16.

_Edward Verdande II had been at his father's side all through the family's difficult rise to wealth and power. He understood the foundation of the position handed to him, and he loved the planet Niflheim as his father had before him. The terraforming process, though long and difficult, continued to completion. _

_As Edward II passed middle age, housing units for the mining crews were constructed on the planet's surface, and the first settlers were brought in. By the time he passed away a few decades later, Niflheim had begun to develop its own civilization. It was no longer completely dependent on goods brought out from the Core, or from the neighboring fertile planet of New Borjomi. _

_Edward III had been born after his grandfather's cartel was established, and he grew up in the Core, accostumed to wealth and privilege. He believed himself to be a giant among men, and found the mutterings of his father and grandfather regarding the responsibility of the powerful embarrassing and absurd. But he agreed whole-heartedly with their plans of making the planet independent. He hoped that Neiflheim would someday have population and wealth sufficient to earn its own seat in Parliament. He had no doubt as to who would occupy that seat._

_The third head of the Verdande cartel was a shrewd businessman, and he would need to be. The mineral rights which were the basis of the Verdande's wealth and power were due to expire, according to law, one hundred and twenty five years after the date they had been purchased by Edward I. The rings would then be open for development by other parties. This was due to happen in the sixteenth year after Edward III took over the Verdande cartel. He was determined that the glory of his family's business wouldn't fade, but he needed something to keep him ahead of the other cartels who would be buying their way into the market._

_The Verdande empire had always relied on the standard method of extraplanetary mining: scans were run on target bodies within a certain size range, then spectral methods identified those with rich crystal content. Mining crews towed these bodies out of the rings and into orbital pre-processing centers, where the crystal material was separated from the rock as much as possible. The scrap was released into the inner rings; the extracted crystals were packed into freighters for shipment to labs located on industrial moons in the Core. Corporations independent of the Verdande empire charged a hefty fee for the complex processing required to ready the crystals for use in optical computer systems._

_In the decade before the Verdande mineral rigths expired, engineers for the Verdande cartel, backed by almost bottomless funding from Edward III, developed a new system for mining lithium dubniate, one which secured the cartel's position at the top of the market._

.*. .*. .*.

Xiaojun's directions led Zoë, Jayne, and Wash to a walled-in compound on the outskirts of the crumbling city of Alsvidh. The trip took much longer by hovercraft than it had by ship; by the time they arrived, it was getting near sunrise.

There was a single entrance to the compound: a brightly lit gate guarded by a lone sentry in a booth. Wash parked the hovercraft at the edge of the circle of light, then he and Zoë climbed out. Wash waited while Zoë checked her weapons and gave Jayne instructions. Nothing complicated – just stay awake and guard the mule.

"Can't Wash babysit?" Jayne whined. "I already had my turn, and it's borin' as hell."

"It's _your_ baby," Wash replied, patting the side of the hovercraft. Then he grinned and continued in a half-lecturing tone, "Jayne, you have to accept the responsibility for your actions. You got her, now you have to take care of her. Besides, you two need to spend time together to form that lifelong bond. Get to know her, cuddle her a bit – I hear breast feeding helps."

Jayne glowered at Wash, but they were interrupted by Zoë."For you, dear," she said, holding out a small handgun. Wash took it and held it up for a closer look.

"We're going into unknown territory and I get one little tiny pistol?" he asked his wife.

Jayne grinned. "Little man gets a little gun to go with his little – "

"Jayne," Zoë snapped, "you better be takin' this seriously. If we can't get help from this Bucky guy, this mule may be all we have." She looked the thing over with cold appraisal. "Mayhap we can barter it for something more useful."

"You don't _barter_ my mule away!" Jayne said, reaching his arms out to caress the back of the seat he was sprawled on.

"Whatever," Zoë replied, then she nodded to Wash. "Come on. Time's a'wastin'."

"You and Vera have a nice evening with the little one," Wash called back to Jayne merrily.

Zoë shushed Wash as they approached the security booth next to the gate. Inside it, a single dim reading light shone on a tattered paperback held in a grubby hand, and a dull glow was thrown upward to illuminate an oily, red face. Zoë stepped up to a grating in the window of the booth.

"I heard there's a fellow name a' Bucky livin' in here," she said. "We need to have a word with him."

"That's nice," the man replied without looking up from his book.

"Hey," Zoë said, raising her voice. "It's real important."

"You'll have to explain to me why I care," he replied, still focused on his reading.

Zoë put a hand up to the glass and tapped it lightly with her thumb. There wouldn't be any bullets getting through that, which left one way to get to the man's caring side.

She dug into the money bag that Kaylee had left with her, picked out a coin and slapped it against the window. The man looked up at the sound of metal against glass, then twisted the reading light to shine on the coin nested in her palm. He leaned forward to look at it closely, then shone the light on Zoë, and on Wash behind her.

"I'll need one of those for each a'you," he said.

Zoë's eyes narrowed, but she took her hand away from the glass and added another coin to it, holding them up for him to see.

"Fine, put em in here." A little drawer pushed out under the window. Zoë dropped in her coins and stepped back, looking to the gate. When it didn't open, she glared at the guard.

"I'll need two more if ya wanna take those firearms with ya." When Zoë didn't move, he added, "I'm breakin' the rules here. Could cost me my job."

"You can have one more and feel real good bout it," Zoë replied as she dug into the purse and dropped another coin in the drawer.

"So then, how bout one for – "

"Fèi rén, don't push it," Zoë snapped, holding up her carbine. "You're hidin' behind a mighty fine window, but I wouldn't mind seein' how big a dent I can put in your little shack."

"She's very good at denting," Wash added.

There was a slight pause, then the drawer pulled in and the gate slid open.

Just inside the cartel compound, Zoë and Wash passed a crumpled jungle gym and a set of uneven swings. They stood out against the graying sky like a pile of broken bones; it looked more like a graveyard than a playground. Wash thought about children living in this grim place, and he shivered. He'd seen such housing compounds before, even stayed in them plenty of times back when he piloted for transport companies. Usually there was some greenery to hide the cracking walls and peeling paint, but there was nothing to soften the bleakness here.

There were several housing units, all roughly a dozen stories, arranged in a neat but stifling grid. A few early risers hurried along the dusty sidewalks, preparing for whatever business the new day brought. They didn't seem surprised to see armed strangers wandering through, nor did they seem happy about it. Folks stepped aside and looked on tensely when they saw Zoë and Wash coming.

Near the center of the compound, a short line of people were waiting quietly for their turn at a counter in the ground floor of one of the high-rises. Wash paused to look at the list of prices on the wall; the place seemed to be what passed as a grocery store. Most of the items were crossed out, and the prices had been written over several times. Wash made a grunt of disgust.

"Honey," Zoë prompted softly, noticing how everyone in line was watching them.

"But do you see?" He raised a hand at the board. "That's robbery, and you can barely live on that gōu shī anyhow – "

"I know, dear. It's not our business. Let's just find our man."

No one in the line would talk to them, but, after waiting their turn, they bought a protein pack for much more than its advertised price and got the worker to admit he knew of a Bucky. They bought another protein pack and got directions. By then, it was near full light. Wash handed their purchases to a woman in line and they went on their way.

There weren't any maps of the compound; despite the neat layout, it took some time to find the door with the right number on it. Zoë was glowering when they finally got there. The many delays had worked on her already short fuse, and Wash could feel her frustration like heat coming off a really big ember. She was ready to take it out on the first convenient target, and Wash just hoped it wouldn't be him.

They finally found the right door, and Zoë knocked. It took two more hard knocks before it was answered by a man in a tattered robe. He was tall and out of shape, the robe hanging off his weak shoulders and tied over a sagging belly. His light brown hair hung in thin wisps over his forehead and ears, and dirty stubble littered his worn face.

"You Bucky?" Zoë asked.

He looked at her skeptically. "Who's askin'?"

Zoë didn't answer, just stepped forward. She didn't have to push him; he backed away. Wash followed, pausing to close the door behind him. The man continued to stumble back, and when Zoë stepped into the light of the shabby living room his eyes locked onto the carbine in her hand.

"Hey, lady, you can't just be comin' in here and threatenin' me – "

"I ain't threatened you yet," Zoë said. "You'll know it when I do."

"I ain't just some miner! I keep things runnin' – if I go missin' they'll be lookin' to see what happened!"

Wash caught up and stepped in front of Zoë, doing what he could to diffuse things. "Sweetie, it's okay. Mister… um, Bucky is it?"

The man straightened, putting on a rather brave show, considering that two armed stangers had just barged into his home. "That's right, I am."

"Well, Bucky. You'll have to excuse my wife…" Wash gave Zoë a _would-you-relax_ look, and the glare she returned said _don't-butt-in-or-we'll-be-talking-about-this-later _. Wash took a deep breath and decided that later would have to take care of itself. He looked back to Bucky, who was staring at Zoë like he wasn't sure what to make of Wash's use of the word "wife."

Wash laughed awkwardly and rubbed his hands together. "Zoë here is actually cuddly as a podokesaurus, especially to people who she's asking for _help_." He looked at Zoë as he stressed the last word, then back to Bucky. "She's just a little… uh… stressed. Because who wouldn't be after the day we've had? Am I right, Zoë?"

She tilted her head to the side as she gave him a dark look, but then she let out her breath and put her carbine away.

Wash looked around the room, taking in the shabby furniture. "How about we all sit down and have a friendly chat, all right?"

His suggestion was grudgingly accepted. Bucky went to a bulging old armchair and Wash took one side of a green two-seater sofa. Zoë seemed to think it wouldn't be daunting enough to squeeze onto the other half of the sofa, so she leaned stiffly on the arm of it.

"You know a man name a' Ray?" she asked without preamble.

Bucky looked startled at the name. He took a few seconds to recover before he replied. "Whatever he's got himself into, I ain't had nothin' to do with it."

"So you know him?"

He made a disgusted face. "Used to."

"And now?"

"Ain't seen him in years." He was looking at Zoë with obvious distrust; her mention of Ray wasn't sitting well with him.

"Well, it appears that he and a few of his cronies stole our ship," Zoë said. "They're threatenin' the lives of our crew."

Bucky grunted and looked back and forth between Zoë and Wash. "You the folks came down the other day, been walking round town with some browncoat, lookin' for ship parts?"

Wash met Zoë's eye, then they both looked at Bucky.

"Small place, we don't get private ships visitin' too often," he explained. "Word gets round. So what're you doin' coming to me? I'm a mechanic, but I don't know nothin' about deep space transports – "

Zoë interrupted impatiently. "A woman named Xiaojun sent us after you. She said you'd help us out, if we told you about Ray and Jase. Now I don't know your connection to these folks and I don't much care. But I got coin and I can get foodstuffs if that's what you're after."

Zoë was pushing her deal, and didn't notice until she was done that the man had turned pasty white. He was staring at her with his mouth half open.

"Jase?" he asked.

"That's the one set us up," Zoë replied. "A Chinese kid. Well, teen. You know him, too?"

Bucky didn't reply. He looked away from them and wiped his hand over his face, looking like he'd seen a ghost.

"I think we can take that as a yes," Wash said to Zoë.

Bucky looked up at Wash. "You … how do you know?"

"We talked to one of them over the comm; they made it clear they needed our ship working and would kill – "

"No," he cut Wash off impatiently, "about Jase. How do you know bout him?"

"He talked to our mechanic. Yesterday morning, right here in town. He sent us out to the countryside to meet Xiaojun – and that's where these people got to our ship."

Bucky stared at Wash, but his look slowly turned inward. "A Chinese kid, named Jase," he mumbled, half to himself, "with Ray."

Wash glanced at Zoë, confused at the man's response. "Ye-ah," he said. "Should I write this down? Draw a diagram maybe? A flow chart?"

Bucky stood up and walked to the far wall. He pushed open heavy curtains to let in the morning light; the window looked out on another wall a few meters away, but Bucky stared out like it was a whole grand view.

"Hún qiú," he said softly to himself. "Bastard told me he was dead." Wash heard Zoë taking a breath to speak, but he laid a hand on her arm and shook his head. They waited quietly until Bucky turned back to them. "You know anything bout his mother?"

"Sorry," Zoë answered. "We didn't catch the full family history. Now why don't you explain some of this?"

Bucky didn't answer, just stared out the window at the blank wall. "Stupid hùnzhàng's got him doin' crime," he said quietly.

"If this kid means somethin' to you," Zoë said, "you might wanna get a move on. We got good reason to think he got shot when they took the ship."

Bucky turned back to her sharply. "Shot? Is he all right?"

"Don't rightly know," Zoë answered. "All we know is what we got from tracks they left in the dirt. We think he was alive when the ship took off, but that was yesterday afternoon."

"Where are they now?"

"In orbit," Wash answered. "The ship had a mechanical problem that slowed them down, but they'll have fixed it by now, so we need to move fast."

The man was getting past whatever had shocked him. He put a hand to his jaw, scratching his stubble and looking at the two of them closely. "Xiaojun told you about me?" he asked.

"She did," Wash answered.

Bucky looked back and forth between them. His look settled on Wash, who he seemed to view as the likelier of the two to give a square answer.

"Who exactly are you people?"

"I'm Hoban Washburn. I go by Wash. This is my wife, Zoë."

Bucky's face had recovered its color. In fact, he was looking a little flush now, like some anger had been stirred up.

"Hell," he muttered, "if you're just messin' with me, I guess it don't matter. Ain't got much to lose."

With that, he went into a side room. They could hear drawers opening, clothes rustling. Bucky came back into the room a minute later, wearing tough khaki trousers and buttoning a dark brown flannel shirt over a white tee.

"I work on the transport ship that moves miners to and from the rings," he said. "I do maintenance only - can't fly it. Can one a' you can figure out the controls?"

"I think we'll manage," Zoë said with a look at Wash.

"Good. My I.D.'ll get us into the docks," he said as he pulled on a pair of heavy boots. "There's a few guards might raise a fuss about you two once we get in, but I'm thinkin' the lady here won't have a problem getting em to back down. Just don't hurt anyone, okay? They're friends of mine."

Zoë nodded.

"What about Jayne and the mule?" Wash asked her.

"The mule can take care of itself." She turned to Bucky. "We got a man outside the compound to pick up."

He nodded, then pulled open the front door and they followed him out into the hallway.

Stealing the transport was even easier than Bucky had made it sound; the security folks backed off without argument. There weren't even any lockdown procedures to overcome before they could lift off. Within fifteen minutes of leaving Bucky's apartment, they were in the air.

"People are pretty desperate to get off world," Bucky explained to Wash over the whine of the engine, "so the company only uses transports that won't get far. Anyone stupid enough to steal this thing gets stuck in orbit, and cartel security eats em up. Not many try anymore."

There was just room for Bucky to squeeze into the cockpit behind the pilot's seat. He watched Wash work the controls, and guided him to the compound's entrance so they could pick up Jayne. Zoë was back in the main hold, looking though the compartments to see if there was anything that would help get to _Serenity_.

"What took you so gorram long?" Jayne asked Zoë when she stepped out of the transport.

"It was a fine night of wining and dining and dancing under the stars," Wash answered. "We could hardly tear ourselves away. Hope the kid wasn't too much of a problem."

Jayne wasn't bothered by the jibe; his lip curled in a satisfied sneer. "Had a few locals sniffin' around. I just showed 'em this." He pulled his favorite large knife out of his belt and gave it a look of love. He seemed to want to continue with the full story of his daring defense of the mule, but Zoë didn't let him.

"Time to move on," she snapped, "Let's go."

She nodded over her shoulder, motioning for Jayne to get on the transport. He stepped away from the mule, but suddenly stopped and turned to stare at it, then looked back at Zoë with an expression of confused desperation.

"We can't leave it here," he said. "It's gonna get stole!"

"Can't help that, Jayne."

"But, it's…" he turned back again, and his voice held a note of real grief. "It's my mule. We was bonding."

Zoë sighed. "Jayne, I'd be happy to leave you here with it, but I'm like to need your gun to get _Serenity_ back."

They both turned when a voice spoke behind them.

"Hang on - give me a sec," Bucky called. It was more like thirty seconds, but then the back end of the transport swung up, making an entrance big enough to drive the mule into. Bucky walked out the wide opening.

"We gotta have a way to move machinery around," he explained, then he smiled. "Don't even need to put the ramp out to get that thing in."

"Hell, I call that downright convenient," Jayne replied. "You that Bucky guy?"

"I am."

Jayne looked him up and down, then nodded something like approval. Then he turned to Zoë.

"So then, how we gettin' on _Serenity_?"

"Workin' on it," Zoë replied.

.*. .*. .*.

Wash turned off the comm as he flew out of Alsvidh's airspace. There was no point in listening to the threats and demands of the local traffic control, as he had no intention of obeying them anyway. Once he got clear of the city, he set a course that would get them into low orbit, then went back to the main hold of the transport to see if Zoë had made any progress with the plan. Or, more specifically, if there was a plan at all.

Wash had some ideas – he knew the blindest angle to use on the approach to _Serenity_, and he should be able to get them close, as long as the bad guys didn't run an active scan. Hopefully, they'd be too busy to worry about keeping a keen lookout. With Mal onboard and River running around loose, that was entirely possible.

The real problem was how to get onto the ship. There was the top side hatch, the one Jubal Early had used. Coud be no one had locked it down, as had been Mal's habit ever since the bounty hunter made his visit. It'd be worth a try. But getting aboard _Serenity_ was Zoë's problem, one that Wash had every reason to believe she'd solve. His wife had a way of getting to whatever place she wanted to go.

He worked his away around the mule; they'd had to fold up all the seating in the transport to fit the bulky hovercraft in. Zoë and Jayne were going through compartments in the aft bulkhead, Bucky sitting by watching. Zoë pulled out an old spacesuit out of a largish compartment just as Wash got to her.

"That's what I need," she said with a half smile, and started gathering together little parts that went with the suit. The thing appeared to be a bow to some barely enforced safety regulation – it was old and battered and looked like it hadn't been used in an age or two.

"Is that the only one?" Wash asked in a worried voice, glancing hopefully into the open cabinets.

"It's the only one," Zoë replied, and looked at him with a dark glint in her eye. "Guess it'll be little ole me against three bad guys."

"Great plan," Jayne said with a roll of his eyes. "And what do we do after you get yourself caught or killed?"

"You'd rather go then?" Zoë asked, holding out the suit.

"Hell, I could take out three men in my gorram sleep," Jayne boasted, but he shifted uncomfortably and didn't actually offer to go in her place. Wash noticed how his eyes lingered on the ratty space suit.

"Actually, I was referring to the condition of the suit," Wash clarified. "That one's looking a little… um… death-trappy."

"It's what we got," Zoë said, "and it's what I'll use."

"But, honey – "

A beeping from the cockpit called Wash away. "Come up with something else," he said as he squeezed back around the mule. "I'd prefer not to be married to space debris. At least send Jayne instead – he'd make much better debris."

Instead of snapping at Wash, Jayne just shrugged and backed away from Zoë, clearly not wanting in on the spacewalk.

Once back in the cockpit, Wash checked the display. They'd reached orbit, and it was time to go on the hunt. The little transport was meant for limited use – traveling known routes from the surface to mining platforms. There weren't many advanced capabilities on her, such as tracking and active scans. But basic traffic control required a display of pulse beacon signals nearby. Wash would just have to circle the planet until he found _Serenity_, assuming the hijackers hadn't gotten whatever it was they wanted and left the system already.

He set out on a path that meandered over the rings, since the majority of traffic clustered there. He had to stay in the cockpit during the search, to monitor every blip that showed on the ship's screen.

It took only half an hour to find her. _Serenity_ was perched over the outer rings, looking like she was resting on the edge of the disc. He approached her from much higher up, then turned the shuttle to point down at her from directly above. Once he got positioned, he called Zoë to the bridge.

"Anyone tryin' to talk to us?" Zoë asked over his shoulder.

Wash checked the comm. "Nothing. Must not have noticed us."

Zoë leaned over the back of his seat to see out the cockpit window. "Are they movin'?"

"Hold on." Wash had no viewer to help, just his old-fashioned eyesight, so he nudged them closer. "I sure hope they don't see us coming," he mumbled, knowing that they were now a very large blip on the helm controls, there for anyone to see.

"The attitude jets are firing," he saida minute later. "They're maneuvering. Being very careful about it, though. Just small adjustments."

"What's goin' on?" Jayne asked. He and Bucky were squeezed in the door behind Zoë, trying to see out the window.

Neither of the Washburns answered, just waited as they crept toward the ship. They were soon close enough to see through the windows over the dining room. There was someone Wash didn't recognize standing next to the table. He adjusted their position so he could see better – it was a woman. After a few seconds, Kaylee and Book crawled out from under the table. The preacher accepted a hand from Kaylee, and leaned on her heavily as they left the room, the strange woman behind them.

"Can we fly round back?" Zoë asked, "Stay out'a view? This is too risky."

Wash nodded and took them behind the Firefly's tail and partly below her. Then he carefully moved underneath the ship. She was so close to the rings that he'd be in danger of catching a few rocks to the craft's belly if he got any lower, but he inched forward until he saw what _Serenity_ was doing.

A small cylindrical craft – craft wasn't right, it was more like some kind of machinery – was sticking halfway out of the Firefly's cargo hold. An attitude jet fired, and Wash cringed when the machine banged into the port side of the airlock. But it also worked its way a little further into the ship's hold.

"That's kind'a kinky, huh?" Jayne asked.

"Bèn shă guā," Bucky muttered.

"I'm just sayin' – " Jayne complained, but Bucky interrupted him.

"I ain't talkin' 'bout you."

Zoë looked over her shouder at Bucky. "What is it?"

"Verdande harvesting unit. That right there is the big bucks of the Verdande cartel. Whole reason they still own this gorram planet."

"How's that?" Wash asked.

"I don't know nothing technical about the minin' business. But the cartel I work for is the Skuld's, and they can't use those things. Can't even go near em. Some law about rights, who owns what."

"What's it do?" Jayne asked, still watching in fascination as the object disappeared into _Serenity_'s hold.

"I'm tellin' ya, I don't know squat about minin'. But I know that if Ray is tryin' to make off with one of these, he sure as hell ain't got any smarter over the years. Verdande's'll be after him like he stole their first born."

"So how bout we get to him first," Zoë said. "We got us an open door, let's make use of it. Wash, get us close."

Wash turned to look at her. "Are you thinking of putting that suit on?"

"More than thinkin'," Zoë replied, and she turned to go into the hold.

Wash glanced at the controls, then he slid out of the seat and past Bucky and Jayne."That's really not a good idea," he called after Zoë.

"You got another?" She started to squeeze her way around the mule, Wash following behind her.

"Can we just talk about this?" he asked.

"Nothin' to talk about."

"Actually, there is one pretty big thing."

Zoë reached the aft bulkhead. "I'm ain't fightin' about this."

"Oh yes, I think you are!" Wash said. "Getting yourself dead is not going to help anyone."

"Don't have much time, dear." Zoë picked up the suit from the floor.

Wash caught up to her and pulled the suit out of her hands. "This thing is ancient! I won't have you going into hard vacuum – "

She grabbed it back. "What you will or won't have ain't at issue here. This could be the only chance we get. If what Bucky says is true, they'll disappear quick once they get that thing on board." Zoë was pulling open the suit as she talked, and she began stepping into it.

"I understand that, but this is not the way to help!" Wash looked into the locker, grabbed the tank of compressed oxygen. The fullness indicator was shattered. "You don't how much oxygen is in here! And these!" He grabbed at the attitude control jets on the back of the suit. "Zoë – this one's all clogged up! What if you miss, go floating off into the rings? I won't be able to help you!"

Zoë replied coolly. "I guess you better get us as close as you can so I don't miss." She pulled the suit up around her waist and pushed her arms into the sleeves.

Wash folded his arms in front of him and glared at her. "No."

She froze. "What did you say?"

"I said – hell, no."

"Wash, this is not the time to be playin' husband."

"I don't 'play' husband; I am husband. This is idiotic, and I won't let you do it."

Zoë stepped close to him, drawing up to her full height to look down at him, and Wash felt a lot like a grunt in basic training, with a hard-assed lieutenant dressing him down for insubordination.

"You ain't got a choice in the matter," Zoë said. "I outrank you. I made a decision, and I am givin' you an order. Get back in that cockpit and move us close as you can to that open door."

Wash didn't back down. "Zoë, dear, you can gēn hóu zi bĭ díu shĭ."

He saw something very scary crackle in his wife's eyes, but more immediately scary was the shock that went through the hull of the transport as something collided with her underside.

"Can y'all have words later?" Jayne asked from the hatch to the cockpit where he'd been spectating. "Kinda be nice to have someone flyin' this thing right now."

"Huài le," Wash muttered. He took one more look at Zoë, saw that scary thing still in her eyes, then he turned away and ran back to the cockpit.

The transport had drifted too close to the rings, and was surrounded by small chunks of rock. Two more hit before Wash moved them to a safer place, which wasn't easy considering how narrow the gap between _Serenity_ and the rings was. He had every intention of resuming the argument as soon as he had them safely situated, but then Zoë called out:

"I'm suited up. Airlock takes sixty seconds to cycle. How close I am to _Serenity_ when I step out is up to you." Wash heard a hatch slam and knew she'd just shut herself into the airlock.

Wash wasn't a man to get angry. Sure, he got grumpy and moody. He'd complain or swap harsh words when he thought something asinine was going on. He'd resort to dirty tricks like rewiring shuttle controls so he could have his way. But mind-numbing explosive rage was a new thing to him.

For a few seconds that felt much longer, he was unable to do anything. He sat frozen with his hands on the controls, trying to process the choice his wife had just left him with.

"Jayne," he said distantly, "get back in there and stop her."

"How d'you suppose I do that?"

Wash turned to look up at the merc. "Manually shut down the cycle!"

"No way. I ain't getting in the middle of this." Jayne folded his arms stubbornly. "You ain't gettin' me anywhere near that airlock."

Wash gripped the controls, noticing how his hands shook, and his eyes swept the panel for some kind of override. His gaze caught on the traffic display – there was a third blip on the screen, another ship approaching from above _Serenity_. It was close - Wash squinted at the signature displayed next to the blip, and he swore.

There were a few more hard knocks as he recklessly powered the transport backwards, pulling them out behind the Firefly. Then he rotated the craft so he could see the approaching third party.

"I'll just go shut down the airlock," Jayne said helpfully.

"Who is it?" Bucky asked.

Wash realized his mouth was hanging open. It took him a few seconds to turn his brain on and reply: "The Alliance."

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
fèi rén: useless person  
gōu shī: crap  
hún qiú: no-good bastard  
hùnzhàng: son of a bitch  
bèn shă guā: stupid idiot  
gēn hóu zi bĭ díu shĭ: engage in a feces hurling contest with a monkey  
huài le: shit on my head

* * *

Chapter 17.

_The Verdande cartel needed a technological miracle, and its engineers delivered. They developed a new method of mining the lithium dubniate crystals that enabled Edward Verdande III to maintain his stranglehold on the Niflheim system._

_Viewed as a whole, the new solution was not elegant. The final product of more than a decade of very expensive research, referred to as a "harvester," was essentially a large mechanical intestine. It was a cylinder roughly four meters in length and one meter in diameter. When in operation, one end of the cylinder extended a wide conical funnel of reinforced aluminum, and like a whale shark from old earth, it wound through the gaps between larger bodies in the rings, gathering pebbles and dust into its gaping maw. _

_The initial separation of flakes of crystal from the rock matrix, which happened in the main gullet of the tube, was relatively simple. The local Verdande processing centers had been applying this process for nearly a century. The dust was vaporized, and the lithium dubniate particles were selectively drawn into the walls of the main cavity of the cylinder. The depleted rock and ice passed through, ejected out the back to leave a trail of stony excrement._

_The main technical advance, a complicated process for which several Verdande engineers earned luxurious early retirements, was the processing done to the separated lithium dubniate. After being gathered into chambers in the walls of the machine, they were put through several cycles of heating and cooling and treated with a series of purifying and bonding agents. The crystals were doped with iron or copper ions and layered with semiconducting alloys according to the specifications of the computer manufacturers who contracted with the Verdandes. _

_In this way, the finished product was formed from the raw materials in one easy, unmanned, relatively inexpensive step._

.*. .*. .*.

Ray followed the woman – Inara – onto the bridge. She paused just inside the door, and he stopped behind, his fingers tapping together in impatience. He was in a hurry, thoughts flying back and forth across his mind. He was almost out of this, almost through the worst years of his life, and he could barely keep himself from pushing her out of his way.

Then he noticed how Ginger gave Inara a menacing look. Āi yā – one more complication to deal with.

"The missin' shuttle showed," he said with a nod toward Inara, hoping that he wouldn't have to say any more about where the woman had come from. "You found the harvester?"

"We're all set to load it on," she replied. "Just gettin' lined up. I talked to the old lady, too. She'll be waiting for us here." She handed Ray a slip of paper with some coordinates scrawled on it.

Ray kept his response to a quick nod. Seeing an end to this job made his brain light up more; he didn't trust his voice.

"Where's Will?" Ginger asked.

Ray took a breath to get himself together. He didn't want to explain it all: Will and the lady and the odd girl in the infirmary. It was too much to handle. Besides, he wasn't optimistic as to how Ginger would react. Could be she'd raise a fuss – certainly she would about Will. She'd have to check on him, take him to the infirmary. And then she'd want to tie up the girl and the doctor, lock them away somewhere they couldn't help Jase.

"Will's busy," he explained as simply as he could. He could deal with Ginger when they were loaded up and safely out of the system.

Ray looked to his captives: the lady, Inara, was hugging the mechanic tightly. The captain sat by, looking out the window. This was getting to be too many people to watch over; he couldn't risk things going awry now. He turned back to Ginger.

"I want only the captain up here, to do the flyin'. Anywhere we can put the other two to keep em out of the way?"

Ginger chewed on the idea, then she nodded. "I can disable the shuttle, and we can lock em in there."

"You can lock a hatch so they can't get out?"

"I can do it from the controls in here."

That made him think. "Any hatch on the ship?"

"It's called technology, Ray."

He glared his annoyance at her. "Lock down the infirmary, too."

"The infirmary?"

"That's what I said."

"If we're doin' that, why don't we put them all in there – "

He cut her off sharply. "No!" He glanced toward the front of the bridge. Inara and the girl had heard, and were looking at him. He tried to calm his voice. "No," he continued. "That's… too far. Just put em in the empty shuttle. The one you took down to the surface, not the one that just got here." He paused a second, then added, "Take the mechanic first, and grab the preacher on the way."

Ginger tipped her head, looking annoyed. "We ought'a leave that one where he is. You recall what Will said bout him? He's like to put up a fight."

"He's been tied up for hours – ain't likely to be so limber right now."

"But, Ray – "

"Shut up and do it! I got enough problems from that damn wannabe cowboy, I won't take any from you." His voice was low, but Ginger clearly felt the intensity behind it; she backed up a step. "Lock those two up," he continued, "then come back for the fancy lady."

"I'll take her along now – "

"No you won't – lady's got some training." Ray looked at the woman in question; she was still watching him, looking about as dangerous as a new-born kitten. "She knows how to make trouble," he continued lamely. "You can't keep an eye on her and the preacher at the same time. Now get to it; I ain't tellin' you again."

Ginger looked like she didn't care for being talked to like that, but she nodded and did as he said.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee's hug wasn't as warm as usual, but Inara relished the contact. She felt so lost, she barely heard the words that the girl whispered in her ear. Something about a weapon. Her shoe. Needs one minute...

The message was interrupted by Ray's loud voice. Inara and Kaylee both turned to watch and listen, still clinging to each other for comfort. The woman, Ginger, eventually came forward and hit a few switches on the console, then grabbed Kaylee by the arm and towed her off the bridge. Inara watched them go, feeling alone again. She folded her arms around herself.

"What the hell are you doin' here?" a familiar voice demanded from beside her. She looked toward the pilot's seat; Mal glanced up at her, his face a mess of bruises and dried blood that she hadn't been able to make out when she first saw him. She had to swallow hard before she could speak.

"I waved you, you didn't answer," she explained, trying not to show how his appearance startled her.

"Mayhap you can see why."

Inara's relief at finding him alive quickly turned to frustration at his harsh tone. "My appointment was cut short – " she started, but he interrupted her.

"You're not leavin', right? It didn't work out? Complicated?" He stared at her for a second, then looked out the window at the planetary rings that were now right under the ship. He rubbed his forehead, a worried gesture, then looked at her again.

Inara straightened as she realized what his words meant. "You _were_ listening? You heard me?"

He looked away again, and his reply was unsure. "No. I don't… I just knew it."

At first Inara thought he was giving her a cocky _I-told-you-so_, referring back to the argument they'd had before she left the ship a few days ago. But she watched him, saw how his eyes wandered over the helm controls, like he didn't want to look at her.

He wasn't cocky, she realized; he was lost.

When he finally looked up, his eyes focused on her bruised cheek. "You all right?" he asked softly.

Inara had thought she had herself under control, but suddenly she very much wanted to cry. She forced herself to smile instead, and nodded. "Obvious things aside."

"That's good. That's… that's a load off my mind."

Something about the way he said that made Inara turn away to hide her face. She went to sit in the co-pilot's seat, falling into it heavily. She looked over to Mal, catching his eye for just a second, but he looked away from her quickly. As if the sight of her caused him pain.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal had noticed something before Inara came onto the bridge, but seeing her distracted him from it. He saw the bruise on her cheek and a weight came into the pit of his stomach that he didn't know how to handle.

_She's just another worry,_ he told himself. _That's all. Just another care when I got too many already. _

Talking to her didn't help, so he set it aside. It was something he'd become good at lately, he realized, setting aside worries that he couldn't do anything about.

He returned his attention to the thing he'd noticed – it was a little blip on the display, another ship nearby. He'd left it alone while Ginger was on the bridge; the woman might have noticed what he was doing. He wasn't so worried about Ray, since the man didn't appear to have been on a ship before. As soon as Inara sat down and Mal could get his mind to focus on something besides her, he discreetly ran an active scan.

The approaching ship was a transport; its pulse beacon identified it as an errand runner for one of the local cartels. It was slowly closing the distance between itself and _Serenity_, creeping in from directly above, but it hadn't tried to make contact.

Mal had an idea about who was at the helm of the transport. And if he was correct about that, he also knew who was standing right beside the helm, working on a plan to pull his own pìgu out of the fire it was in.

Mal couldn't stifle a small grin. Wasn't a thing could hold Zoë back for long. It made him feel almost chipper, thinking about Zoë with her carbine and Jayne with Vera, spacesuited up and getting ready to float on in to the open cargo bay where they could raise some hell. Yep, that took a few weights off his back for sure.

He turned on the co-pilot's console display and gave Inara a few seconds to look at it. When he glanced over at her, she nodded slightly, letting him know that she'd also seen the contact on the screen. Mal picked up a toy dinosaur that had managed to keep its place on the console through all of _Serenity_'s recent misadventures, and he flew it through the air in front of him, making a soft _whshh_ sound to accompany it. He glanced at Inara again, saw that she understood.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Ray asked from behind them.

"Playin'," Mal said, and he spun his chair around. "Good for the soul. Keeps you young at heart. You should give it a try." He tossed the dino to Ray.

Ray caught it in his left hand and gave it a suspicious look, like he expected it to explode. "Just load the harvester," he said, and tossed the toy over Mal's head. It fell down the ladder in the front of the bridge and clattered in the dark space below.

Mal gave Ray a look of disappointment. "Bet you were loads of fun at recess."

"Don't start," Ray warned, but he sounded more annoyed than threatening. He was tapping his thumb against his leg as if he was too wound up to be still. "Just get on with it," he said.

Mal turned back to the controls, checked the harvester's location on the screen, and started inching _Serenity_ towards it. But he was grinning, remembering a little time he'd spent alone with Wash recently.

"You may not have realized it," he said to Ray, "but that little dino that was Queen T. Rex. I hear that she won't stand for bein' treated like that. May steal your brain or somesuch."

Ray wasn't the only one who looked at Mal like he'd gone completely insane.

Mal shrugged at Inara. "What? That's what Wash said, and he'd know. Who am I to question?"

Inara swallowed hard and looked away from him, like she wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. It stole away his giddiness, seeing her act like that, seeing how pale she was.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee didn't speak as Ginger followed her down the hall to the dining room. Wordlessly, she held her hand out, and Ginger handed over her knife so Kaylee could use it to cut the Shepherd free.

She returned the knife when she was done, then helped Book get out from under the table and climb to his feet. He wavered a bit when he stood, and only spoke to thank Kaylee. Ginger motioned them forward, and Kaylee held Book's arm and led him on.

Once they got into Shuttle Two, Ginger ordered them to stay near the hatch, then she went into the cockpit. Kaylee heard metal scream as a panel was forced open, then there were smaller indistinct sounds.

Ginger came out a bit later. Without expression, she let them know that if they tried anything, people would die. She looked Kaylee in the eye when she said, "Starting with your wēnshén captain."

Kaylee felt herself fuming inside, but she kept quiet until the hatch closed and locked. Then she cut lose with a string of words that made Book look more than a little shocked. He finally put his hands over his ears, and gave Kaylee a pleading look.

"Oh, Shepherd, I'm sorry!" she said, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"That's all right," he replied. "Why don't you just finish up with that while I make use of the head."

Kaylee took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then she went into the cockpit to assess the damage. The panel just to the right of the steering column, the one that housed the wiring for the helm control and communication, had been ripped open and every wire inside had been slashed.

It was too much. Rage and the helplessness overwhelmed her, and Kaylee sank to her knees and bitter tears finally worked their way free. After a bit, she felt Book sit beside her and touch her shoulders, offering a hug that she gratefully returned.

"Oh, Shepherd Book!" she said, so angry it nearly made her sob. "Look what they done to my girl! And… and they hurt you and tied you up and did something to almost kill the captain and Inara was so shook up and who knows what they done to Simon and River. And now they gotta be cuttin' on my girl, too!"

When she ran out of crimes to list, Book told her gently, "They haven't killed us, Kaylee. It might have been easier for them if they had, but they didn't. There's something to that. They must have some decency in them."

She pulled back and looked at him. "How can you say that? After the way they treated you? How long'd they leave you all tied up like that?"

He smiled. "Longer than I'd like, truth be told. But they let me loose. Far as I know, they had no reason to do that, other than their humanity."

Kaylee made a disgusted sound and stood up. "I dunno bout that, Shepherd. I dunno. If you had seen the captain, seen how he was, all tied up and gagged, and that bùyàoliăn hùnzhàng was _laughing_ bout it…"

She walked out into the main room of the shuttle, then plopped down on the floor and started pulling a shoe off.

"I got somethin', Shepherd. Next time one of them comes in here, I'm gonna get em. Hurt em like they hurt you and the captain and Inara."

Book crouched next to her. "Kaylee – I'm not saying they have a right to act as they are, but we have to be reasonable about this. We have to think clearly."

"Oh, I'm thinkin'," Kaylee said as she dug inside her shoe and pulled a little metal disk. "I'm thinkin' lots of things, especially how much thanks I owe a lady name'a Xiaojun." Her eyes glinted darkly as she studied the disk. Book reached out toward it, but Kaylee pulled her hand back.

"I have a good idea of what that is," the Shepherd said, pointing at it, "and it's like to be helpful. But let's make the best use of it that we can, all right? We have to be careful about this."

Kaylee tore her eyes away from the object in her hand to look at Book, and she gave him a tense nod.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal and Inara both cringed when a faint shudder went through the hull – the harvester had knocked against the airlock wall.

"Careful," Ray said.

"I'm bein' all kinds of careful," Mal replied. "This ain't exactly easy."

"Just take it slow. I can't have the thing get broke."

Mal quickly checked the scanner display; the boat that he hopefully thought of as the Zoë-to-the-rescue ship was below _Serenity_ now, creeping forward through the narrow space between her belly and the planetary rings. It stopped right under the wide open cargo bay. Definitely Zoë. The longer he kept the doors open, the more likely that his overpaid gunhands would get on board and finally make some use of themselves.

"Goin' as slow as I can," Mal said distantly. "Gorram tortoise don't go no slower. Gorram tortoise with no legs."

.*. .*. .*.

As much as Inara wasn't in the mood for humor, it did comfort her in some way to see that Mal's irreverence in a dangerous situation hadn't changed. She wasn't up to laughing at him – very nearly the opposite – but she did feel a sense of normalcy return as he chatted with Ray. Her mind started working again, and she deliberately went over everything she knew about the situation.

The crew: Simon and River were in the infirmary, Book and Kaylee were locked in Shuttle Two by now, and Mal was here with her on the bridge. That left three crew members missing: Wash, Zoë, and Jayne. Mal believed that this other ship – she glanced at the display on the console in front of her – was being flown by Wash. It seemed reasonable to assume that Zoë and Jayne were on it as well, and getting ready to invade.

As far as the people holding the ship, there appeared to be only two who were active. That was by no means insurmountable.

Even more interesting, Kaylee had said something to Inara when she'd first arrived on the bridge, whispering in her ear while Ray and Ginger were talking. Inara had been too rattled at the time to process it, but now she recalled something about a weapon, a weapon that needed a minute's notice before it could be used.

Inara was pondering whether she remembered that correctly when Ginger returned to the bridge. Mal quietly flipped a switch and the scanner screen in front of Inara went black.

"The mechanic and the preacher are locked up," Ginger said to Ray. "The shuttle's disabled, and they won't be goin' nowhere. How we doin' with the harvester?"

"Should be done by now," Ray said loudly, as if asking Mal.

"Yep, your harvest-thingy's just bout on board," Mal said. "Gotta close up and re-pressurize the bay, and ramp up the grav. It'll take a few more minutes."

"All right," Ray said, "Ginger, take the lady here and lock her up with the other two."

Inara didn't wait to be ordered or forced, she stood up and turned toward the back of the bridge. Ginger wasn't ready to go; the woman was studying Ray, looking suspicious.

"Sure would help if Will was here," she hinted.

"That it would," he replied, giving nothing away.

"Why don't you just tell me what the hell he's doin'?"

"Cause I don't want to. Take the lady and go. And take care, I don't want no more fightin'."

Ginger humphed and gave Ray a look of frustration, then drew her pistol and motioned for Inara to go ahead of her. She stepped back out of reach as Inara walked by, taking Ray's warning seriously.

"It must be difficult working with a man like Will," Inara said as she passed by the crew quarters.

"Pardon me?" Ginger replied from behind her.

Inara glanced back, wanting to gauge the woman's reaction, but Ginger motioned for her to keep walking.

"It must be hard to get anything done when you have to work with someone that unprofessional," Inara elaborated.

Ginger sounded annoyed. "That man's as pro as they come, lady."

"Oh, excuse me. I hadn't realized."

Inara feared that she'd been too subtle with her sarcasm, but as they reached the stairs leading down to the bay, Ginger took the hint. "You got some reason to think Will a fool?"

Inara glanced back again. Ginger's look was openly challenging.

"That's not _exactly_ the word I'd use," Inara replied in a light voice, "but I am surprised that he acted as he did, given that you and Ray have such a tight schedule to keep. Will would have made himself much more useful if he'd tied me up and left me in my shuttle, instead of attempting to rape me."

Ginger responded quickly, her voice sharp. "He did not."

"Actually, he did. Unfortunately for him, I know how to handle that kind of threat, and all he did was talk."

Inara reached the hatch that opened onto the cargo bay catwalks and she paused, wanting more time to work on Ginger. She wasn't entirely sure what she hoped to accomplish, but she clearly had all the ammunition she needed to get this woman off her game. Inara turned back, leaning against the bulkhead in a relaxed, non-threatening pose, and she smiled sweetly.

"Well, he talked and also did some groaning in pain. That's what Ray was referring to, when he mentioned my 'training'."

"You're sayin' that Will attacked you and you stopped him, easy as that?"

Inara studied her nails. "Mm-hmm."

"No way. I ain't buyin' it."

Inara looked up and gave Ginger a just-between-us-girls smile. "Come, now – Ginger, is it? – you're a woman in a man's profession. Surely you've figured out by now that one can make up for a lack of brute strength."

Ginger studied Inara, her jaw clenching as she considered it. "So, where's Will now?"

"In my shuttle, unconscious. I didn't kill him." Inara said the last like she expected to be thanked for her generosity.

Ginger shook her head. "You're full of niú shĭ – tryin' to stall or somethin'. It ain't gonna work. Now move." She nodded at the hatch, and Inara stepped through.

"We could stop and see him, if you'd like," Inara suggested, pausing at the intersection with the catwalk. "It's just this way." She pointed to the left, toward her own shuttle.

"Don't think so, honey. You're gettin' locked up with the rest." Ginger gave her a nudge to the right.

Inara turned toward Shuttle Two, staying silent for a few seconds while she worked on an idea which was just coming to her. If Kaylee really did have a weapon, distracting Ginger – and letting Kaylee know they were coming – might be all she needed to do.

"Will means something to you, doesn't he?" she asked.

"What is it 'bout folks on this ship, not knowin' when they ought'a stop talkin'?" The woman's tone was threatening, but Inara wasn't bothered. Oddly, she was beginning to enjoy the exchange.

"I'm just curious," she said, "and I think you might be able to explain…" They reached the shuttle and Inara turned the lock on the latch just enough to make a sound that could be heard inside, then she turned back to Ginger.

"Did I make a mistake by fighting Will off? Did I perhaps miss out on something momentous by not falling right onto my back and letting him go at me?"

Ginger looked confused by the combination of Inara's pleasant voice and crude words. When she finally replied, her tone was short. "Actually, he's a great lay, but trash like you ain't never gonna know bout that. You're a whore, ain't ya?"

Inara easily held the pleasant smile on her face. The word didn't offend her, not when it was being used by this woman.

"Something like that."

"Thought so. You smell like one. Look like one too. Bet you ain't good for nothin' else." Ginger's face scrunched up in disgust as she looked Inara up and down. "If Will did come onto you, he was only treatin' you like what you are. He'd never be like that to an honest woman, one who deserves better."

Now, that did annoy Inara. "I suppose you're right," she replied, outwardly unfazed, but her words rang with blatantly plastic concern. "Oh dear, now I feel bad. I hit him quite forcefully in a delicate place. I do hope I didn't damage him; I'd hate for a whole generation of _honest_ women to miss out on his prowess because of me."

Ginger started to reply, but Inara drew in a quick breath, as if a new idea was just coming to her. "But… I guess I needn't worry about his skull, which may have cracked open when he fell on it. His value as a person obviously doesn't reside at that end of his body."

Ginger's eyes narrowed, and Inara waited with a smile. She was going a bit beyond providing a distraction, but she found herself almost wishing the woman would make a move against her. The gun wasn't pointed directly at her, and Ginger was standing close. Inara would be able to reach her quickly…

Ginger let out a breath and stepped back. "Fēng sĭ sānbā. You're just as nutty as that gorram captain. You're tryin' to tick me off, ain't ya? Like Ray said – you got some trainin', and you think you can take me down."

Inara shrugged, letting the woman's conclusion stand. "It was worth a try."

Ginger sneered. "Open the hatch, I'm done with you."

Inara followed the woman's instructions, pushing the hatch open and stepping inside with Ginger following just behind. Ginger was so focused on Inara that she missed the arm reaching out from behind the open hatch. Kaylee's hand pressed against the bare skin of Ginger's forearm, and the woman dropped like a sack of rocks.

.*. .*. .*.

"So, boss," Mal said, "where to now?"

Ray stood still behind him for a nearly a minute. Mal waited, surprised at the man's hesitation. Finally, he turned around to see what the hold up was.

Ray looked at him, then took a deep breath and made his decision. "Nowhere yet. I gotta check the cargo."

"All right, I'll be fine here, I'll just keep her warm – " Mal started, but at Ray's impatient sigh he gave up. "Check the cargo? Great. I'm lookin' forward to seein' what's so gorram important. Let's go."

Mal switched the scanner display and comm completely off, just in case Ginger came back while he was gone, and got up to follow Ray. He had to force himself to keep his eyes still as he walked down to the cargo bay. He felt his nerves jangling, ready to jump into action as soon as a gun fired or a body flew out of a dark corner. He'd given Zoë plenty of time; she, and possibly Jayne, had to be on the ship somewhere.

But they made it to the hold without any surprises, and found a bright blue cylinder rested at an odd angle in the middle of the space. Brightly colored as a warning, Mal thought, just like a poisonous snake. This thing didn't want to be touched. It had ownership labels imprinted up and down its sides: Property of the Verdande cartel; protected under article blah-blah of the Alliance property rights blah blah blah. Legal-ese, the kind that was important to a boatload of brass sitting around drinking whiskey that cost more than most folks make in a month.

Ray wasn't concerned with the warnings or those that put them there. He walked around the cylinder, dragging one hand over it like he was looking for something.

Mal stood quietly by the stairs, the same ones he'd been tied to not long ago, although it felt like it'd been weeks. He took the opportunity to scan the space, to check the shadows for a furtive wave telling him someone had gotten aboard and was about to spring a trap, but there was nothing. He noticed that the hatch to Inara's shuttle was open, but Shuttle Two was closed tight. He wondered where Ginger had gone.

Ray didn't seem concerned; he seemed to have forgotten about everything but his quarry. He stopped and worked a finger into a small slot on the cylinder and a panel on the side of it popped open. He stared into the panel for a second, then pushed a series of buttons and a drawer beside the panel slid out. He reached inside, then lifted his hand with thumb and two fingers pinched together. Small sparkling objects trickled back into the drawer as he rubbed his fingertips against each other.

"There's this school, on Sihnon," Ray mumbled, not looking away from whatever it was he held. "Kids live there. Rich kids."

Mal wasn't sure if he was expected to reply, so he didn't.

"Saw it on the Cortex, while I was workin' the security desk late at night." The steam of particles falling from his fingers tapered off. "Fancy lookin' place – lots a' gardens and such. Same city my wife was from, but she never went near there. It's expensive as hell." He took another pinch of the stuff in the drawer, but this time he caught the trickle in the palm of his other hand.

"This little tiny bit here," he said, staring into his hand as if trying to estimate how much he held, "this'll pay for a couple years for a new kid, with a little extra so they won't be bothered by how far behind he is."

Ray stared into his hand a little longer, then he came back to himself with a start. He didn't look at Mal, just tipped his hand over the drawer to empty it. Carefully, he released the whole drawer from the machine and set it on the deck. He took a strip of soft leather from an inside pocket of his coat and emptied the drawer into it, spreading out what Mal could now see were small dark brown cubes and pyramids that glinted where tiny wires ran along their surfaces. Ray rolled up the leather, put it in a cloth bag, and tucked it inside of his coat. Then he stood up, and finally looked at Mal.

"I got what I need. Now we just gotta get rid of this thing," he reached out to the harvester, replaced the drawer and closed the panel, "and then get clear of the system. All done."

Ray had no learning about machines, but he'd seen plenty of diagrams and descriptions of the one in the hold of this ship. He'd studied them for weeks. The details escaped his understanding, but he got the bigger picture; he knew what this thing was for, and he'd memorized a few basic commands.

He'd been working security for the Verdande cartel for five years, getting hours off and on as the VIP's came planetside or didn't. He said 'yes, sir' in just the right way, and he was always on time. It got to be that he was trusted. He was trusted enough to have time alone inside a compound where he could get to a computer terminal.

A stranger had gotten him started down the path that led him here, betraying that trust. The old lady who called herself Aunt Betty had contacted him nearly a year ago, given him passwords for getting into the Verdande internal cortex, told him where to look for notices of offline harvesters. He'd checked when he could, waiting till a message came through, and when it did he buried it.

No one in the Verdande business knew about this harvester. It had been sitting dead for nearly two weeks, two weeks he'd spent frantically trying to find a ship he could use to retrieve it. He'd tried to get Aunt Betty to provide him one, but she refused, saying he had to earn the payoff he'd be getting. She obviously didn't want the theft to be tracked back to her.

So Ray had gathered a team, bringing in Will and Hank, and Will brought in Ginger. And Ray sat at home studying diagrams he'd smuggled out of the Verdande complex, learning what he'd need to get to his treasure.

Two weeks of waiting, then a day of hell on this ship, but he had it now. It was enough to pay Will and Ginger their cut, and enough for him. And enough for Jase.

Ray had a story all made up: a couple dying in a crash on a remote planet, Jase growing up an orphan on the rim until he got found by his rich Uncle Ray, who wanted him brought up right. Brought up with wealth and comfort. Ray would set up somewhere on the edge, maybe Persephone. Somewhere folks wouldn't question how an ignorant hick like him had come up with so much money, but he'd be close enough to check in with the school on Sihnon, see that Jase was being treated proper.

That was his plan. And here was the crux of it, these sparkly little crystals all wrapped up in his pocket.

He hadn't believed Aunt Betty at first, that she meant to let him walk away with all the wealth and leave her only the machine that gathered it, but so she'd insisted. He supposed she could be planning on double crossing him, but he had to take the risk. Double crossed and dead was better than living the life he had for the past ten years.

As he approached the bridge, Ray's mind came back to the present. He was grateful that the captain had become so docile – the way Ray's mind was wandering, he was an easy target. He had to make himself focus; just one more stop to get rid of the machine, then he'd have the captain drop him and Jase where they could catch a safer ride to the Core. Almost there. Almost free.

Mal sat down at the helm. He'd been playing it safe, passing by the openings Ray was leaving him, hoping that Zoë or Jayne would show up and make it easy. But nothing had happened.

Before he could ran a scan and see what had happened to his ruttin' rescue, Ray tapped him on the shoulder and held out a strip of paper.

"Time to move on. We got someone to meet, right here."

Mal checked the coordinates – it looked to be the planet they'd come from, the place with the good swimming hole and Jayne's strong beer in the cute wintry town. With the ship working now, he could be there in a few hours. That wasn't too bad – it was possible he could unload Ray and Ginger and the rest and be back before day's end to find Zoë. That was something like a plan, anyway.

He pulled _Serenity_'s nose up and set the engines to firing, but then he swore and reversed them with a jolt, pulling to a hard stop. He'd nearly run into the Alliance battleship sitting directly above them.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
āi yā: Damn: interjection for surprise or regret  
pì gu: butt  
wēnshén: troublemaker (literally "plague god")  
bùyàoliăn hùnzhàng: shameless son of a bitch  
niú shĭ: cow shit  
fēng sĭ sānbā: crazy bitch

* * *

Chapter 18.

_Edward Verdande III had struck a goldmine almost as big as his grandfather's. The newly developed harvester required minimal manpower to maintain, so he had no need to hire and support mining crews. He no longer needed to subcontract to Core companies to process the lithium dubniate, since final processing could now be carried out concurrent with mining. Transport fees were greatly reduced as well; an entire year's harvest, fully processed into ready-to-install computer components, could be shipped on one smallish freighter. _

_Edward III maintained control of the riches of Niflheim, completely dominating the market. The competing mining companies were, not surprisingly, eager to know all they could about the new mining process that so limited their share of the wealth. But Edward III had everything protected; as long as he kept his technology patents up to date, he was beyond their reach. _

_However, he had another motive for keeping the details of his new mining method a secret. There was a complication, only recently brought to his attention, that he very much wanted to hide. No one suspected this. No one, that is, except for the woman heading the Skuld Cartel. _

_Beyla Skuld: called Auntie Beyla by her playboy nephew, known as Aunt Betty to certain other parties she had hired for a delicate job. She'd stumbled onto information which could bring the Verdande Cartel down – all she needed was hard proof._

.*. .*. .*.

"But… how… ?

"What in the… ?

"Where did… ?"

The string of unfinished questions was interrupted by a commotion. Wash didn't look into the larger room behind the cockpit where he sat stammering; he wasn't capable of turning away from the Alliance battleship practically sitting on top of his little transport. In any case, he was pretty sure that the source of the distant noise would come find him in the very near future, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

He was dimly aware of an echoing clang when the airlock hatch slammed open, and the string of half-spoken questions and statements that followed was a lot like the one he'd just uttered, but much louder and decorated with many colorful profanities. Then there was a crash which Wash decided was a big body being knocked into the mule – payment to Jayne for interrupting Zoë's plan to get herself killed by going for a spacewalk in a crappy spacesuit.

A deep voiced roared through the tiny shuttle. "Wash!"

Wash's reply was tiny. "Yeah, honey?"

"You better bào fó jiăo, cause you're sittin' in no big steamy pile atrouble and I am gonna – "

Zoë's voice had been rising in volume as she approached the cockpit, reaching something near a bullhorn as she shoved Bucky aside and squeezed her bulky space-suited form through the small hatch, but she stopped mid-rant when she saw what Wash was staring at. There was a pause, and her voice was nearer normal level when she spoke again.

"That… ain't what it looks like," Zoë haltingly declared, then her voice got even smaller. "Is it?"

"Actually, it's…" Wash started, then he paused to fish around for the proper description. When he got it, he turned to Zoë, his hand motioning toward the battleship outside the window. "Mĕi zhōng bù zú!" Zoë gave him a dark look.

Jayne caught up to Zoë a second later, and stood outside the hatch rubbing his backside. "Āi yā, woman," he grumbled. "You could have asked why I stopped ya before you knocked me over."

Zoë ignored the mercenary. "Why exactly are they… here?" she asked Wash.

An authorative voice sounded through the comm: _Stolen Skuld cartel transport – you are under arrest. Shut down your engines and await docking._

Wash let out a heavy breath. "I'm not feeling inclined to argue." He looked to Zoë. "What do you think, lamby-toes?"

She just glared at him, so Wash turned back to the console and started to shut things down.

He changed his mind when _Serenity_'s engines fired up. He had to fight to keep from getting blown into the rubble of the rings as the Firefly tilted, the back end of her beginning to light up. Then her nose lifted high enough to catch sight of the Alliance ship, and she suddenly reversed engines and slammed to a stop.

"Yeah, welcome to the good times," Jayne said with a sneer.

.*. .*. .*.

"Ray's the only one left," Inara told Book. She stood near the shuttle's closed hatch, holding a small gun that she'd taken out of Ginger's limp hand. Carefully, she checked the ammo in the clip.

"We'd best move careful," Book replied as he tied the unconscious woman to the pipes running along the base of the shuttle's bulkhead. "We don't want to push him to do anything desperate."

Inara lowered the gun, satisfied that it was ready for use if needed, although she hoped it wouldn't come to that. "I'd like to try talking to him," she told Book. "I think I can reach him."

Kaylee made a scoffing noise. "Don't you fool yourself, nara, there's only one way to deal with these folks."

Inara wasn't sure if she'd heard right. She turned to see Kaylee sitting on the deck, spinning the metal disk in her hand and staring at Ginger. Kaylee's chin was thrust forward, her mouth pinched and eyes narrow. Her face had a ferocity Inara had never seen in the girl before, nor had ever thought she would.

"I don't think so, honey. Ray very nearly apologized to me when he found me in my shuttle."

"He was lyin'," Kaylee said. "They ain't nothin' but liars, lookin' to take what's ours." She looked up, and there were tears in her eyes, but her jaw was still clenched.

"Mèi mei," Inara said gently, and she knelt down in front of Kaylee. "This isn't you; you don't hate like this."

"You don't get it. You ain't seen what they been doin'!"

"I do know. Kaylee, the other man tried to rape me."

The girl's mouth fell open, and, across the shuttle, Book gave Inara a look of concern. Inara raised her voice to explain to them both, "Will was waiting when I docked, and forced his way onto my shuttle."

The wildness left Kaylee's eyes. "Did he – "

Inara's face softened into a comforting smile. "Of course not. He was sloppy and overconfident. He never even touched me."

Kaylee reached out and gently touched the bruise on Inara's face. "Then what's that?"

Inara's smile fell; she'd actually forgotten. "Long story – let's save it for later. We need to focus on getting to Mal." She stood up and turned back to Book. "When I left, they were on the bridge. Ray seemed almost done getting whatever it is he's after."

Book set Ginger's sniper rifle against the far bulkhead, then looked up at Inara. "Whatever we're going to do," he said, "Let's do it soon. Before Ray notices that this woman hasn't returned."

"I'm with the Shepherd," Kaylee said. "I'm thinkin' now's the time to get our ship back."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sat at the helm and stared out the window, completely dumbstruck. The Alliance ship was barely half a kilometer above _Serenity_. In space, that's a hair's breadth.

"How the hell did you not see that?" Ray asked from where he stood behind the pilot's seat.

"Scanner was off," Mal said distantly.

"Off?"

"It's… complicated."

"Whatever."

On a whim, Mal flipped on the comm.

_Firefly cargo ship – you are under arrest for theft of cartel property. You will shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded…_

Not surprisingly, the Alliance wasn't here to say a friendly hello. Mal reached for the handset to reply, to say something appeasing to keep the bullies from blasting his engines off just for their own fun, but Ray flipped the switch before Mal could reach it and the transmission was cut off midsentence.

"Get goin'," Ray said, "You got some flyin' to do."

Mal turned and gaped at Ray. "Are you insane?"

Ray's face contorted and he pulled out his gun, shoving it in Mal's face. "You keep your mouth shut and get us out'a here."

"Whoa – whoa there!" Mal said, jumping to his feet and backing into the gap between the consoles, throwing his hands out to his sides. "Now, I don't know your personal history, but I'm thinkin' you can't possibly hate the Alliance any more than I do. But I'm tellin' you – we ain't gettin' away from _that_." Mal pointed his finger at the window, at the ship beyond.

"Not if we sit here." Ray cocked the gun.

"And sure as hell not if you shoot me," Mal said, taking another step back. "I'm the only one can fly this boat."

Ray lowered his gun, conceding the point, but he didn't give up the argument. He glared out the window, then back at Mal, shaking his head. "I ain't gettin' caught – not now. If I can't shoot you, I'll find somebody else."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara insisted that, before they do anything else, they make sure Will was still unconscious. Tying him up so he wouldn't be a danger seemed a good idea. She crept along the catwalk behind Book as silently as possibly, Kaylee following behind. They noticed the bright blue cylinder on the deck below, but no one commented on it until they were shut inside Inara's shuttle.

"Do you have any idea what that thing is?" Inara asked Kaylee.

Kaylee shook her head. "Ain't got a clue."

They both looked down when they heard a deep-pitched groan from the man on the floor. Book was kneeling beside Will, checking his pulse. The Shepherd looked up at Inara.

"Nicely done."

Inara smiled and curtseyed at the compliment, but then she looked at the half-conscious man's bloody face and felt a wave of coldness rise inside her.

"He's stirring a bit, though," Book continued. "We'd best get him bound."

"Not in here," Inara said quickly, wanting the man out of her shuttle as quickly as possible. It occurred to her too late that it was a frivolous request; moving him through the cargo bay was an unnecessary risk, and a delay. But she had to have him out of her space. To her relief, Book agreed, though for a different reason.

"Of course," he said. "It'd be best to have him in the same place as the woman."

Book tied Will's hands with a scarf Inara provided, then heaved him over his shoulder and carried him through the hatch. Kaylee, after a sidelong glance at Inara's pale face, picked up Will's discarded clothing, and followed after Book.

Inara paused as they left, letting herself savor the warm, comforting atmosphere of her shuttle for a few seconds before she followed them out. The moment was necessary – she needed to pull herself together, let go of her anger and gather her wits before moving on to what needed to be done. She had to talk Ray down. Alone. That was the best way to finish this as peacefully as possible.

She caught up with Kaylee in the empty shuttle. Will was still groaning, not quite awake, but weakly pulling his arms against the bindings that Book was wrapping around him.

"It'd be best if you stayed here," Inara told Book. "I'm going to the bridge."

Kaylee's eyes opened wide in fear. "Don't do that, Inara. Not by yourself."

"Ray believes the Shepherd is a threat – he'll get defensive if he sees Book coming, we don't want to pressure him." Inara's voice was strong; she was sure about this. "But he's somewhat familiar with me." She put a hand on Kaylee's shoulder, trying to reassure her. "I don't believe he's out to hurt anyone, and I can make a deal with him. I'll find out what he needs, and do all I can to help. It may be that we can get out of this without any more violence."

Kaylee didn't look convinced, but Book nodded. "These two need looking after anyway," he said. He had Will's gun on the deck beside him; by 'looking after' he didn't mean simple care-taking.

"But, Inara – " Kaylee started.

"It's all right; I have this," Inara held up Ginger's small pistol, then tucked it into the pocket of her robe. "Just in case. I'll be all right. You stay here with Book."

Kaylee looked at the two bound hijackers, then shook her head. "No," she said, her voice as determined as Inara's. "I gotta check on Simon. He's in the infirmary?"

Inara hesitated, then nodded. "That's a good idea – let him know what we're doing. And keep a look out for Zoë, Wash, and Jayne. There's a small ship following us; Mal thinks it's them. They may be trying to board."

Kaylee exhaled at the news. "It's almost over then," she said and her face finally relaxed in relief. "We're all gonna be just fine."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal turned to look again at the ship behind him. He grunted in exasperation, his brows pulling together as he ran a hand through his hair and scratched at his head.

"Look," he told Ray, trying to reason calmly. "I ain't that good a pilot. My regular guy's the best, and I'm tellin' you, even if he was here, there's no way we're gettin' away from _that_." He motioned at the ship outside the window again.

Ray wasn't moved. He continued to glare at Mal, his eyes lit with an intensity that was beyond reach. It reminded Mal of the glint he'd seen in the other gunhand's eyes, the one he'd shot down. Hank.

"I ain't endin' in a cell," Ray said, his voice low and forceful, "and Jase ain't going to some crappy orphanage. This job is gonna get done."

"I understand that it would be nice to keep all your sparkly pretty goods and go running free through the Black. I hope you make it there someday, I really do. But today ain't the day."

"Get to flyin', or I'll have Ginger bring your people up here, one by one."

Mal's voice rose in pitch as frustration overwhelmed him. "You're just gonna get us blown up!"

Ray stepped forward, grabbed Mal's shirt and pulled him out from between the consoles and shoved into pilot's chair, then he reached up and triggered the comm. "Ginger, get up here." He looked Mal in the eye as he added, "Bring the little mechanic."

Mal glared at Ray, but a soft voice spoke before he could do anything.

"Ginger's not coming."

Ray and Mal both swung their heads around to stare into the back of the bridge. Inara was stepping through the hatch.

"You're the only one left, Ray," she said. "It's over."

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee approached the infirmary from the cargo bay. She was planning to go straight around to the hatch, but what she saw through the window had her crouching down and staring.

Inside the little room, a body was lying on the exam table and River was sitting next to it, hooked up to a transfusion IV. But Kaylee barely noticed the two of them – Simon was standing at the counter to Kaylee's right, his shirt off. He was focused on a scattering of mottled bruises on the left side of his stomach and rib cage. He used his left hand to locate a sore spot on one of his ribs, the pain he caused himself showing in his face, then he picked up a syringe from the counter and gave himself an injection.

"Oh… gosh," Kaylee whispered. She'd seen Simon with no shirt before, when they were all swimming, and she'd fully appreciated the view. And to see that fine body hurt like that, and Simon dealing with it all by himself…

He opened a jar of ointment and scooped some out, grimacing as he spread it over his bruises. Kaylee rapped on the glass, and Simon turned to her in surprise. "I can do that for ya!" she said in a loud whisper.

Simon walked over to the window, his face screwed up in confusion, his mouth forming the word _What?_ Of course – he couldn't hear her. Kaylee stood up and jogged around to the hatch. It was closed tight, and when she tried to lift the handle, it didn't budge. She harrumphed in frustration and went back to the window.

Simon was pushing on the door from the inside, but with no more success than she'd had. She took a second to study the body on the bed – it was the boy she'd met in town, the one who'd set all this up. And it registered with Kaylee that River was helping him, was giving him her own body's blood.

Simon turned and saw Kaylee in the window. He pointed at the hatch, then held his hands out helplessly. She could see all the hurts on his torso, the bruising on the side of his face. He noticed her stare, and turned away self-consciously to pick up his shirt from the counter.

"No..." Kaylee whimpered to herself. She wanted to be in the infirmary, to nurse poor Simon. He was a healer, a really good one, doing his best to treat a patient even though the boy had been involved in an attack on his ship. And they'd beat Simon for it. Those no-good gorram monsters had beat him and locked him up.

.*. .*. .*.

"The hell it's over!" Ray told Inara. "I ain't gettin' taken down when I'm this close. All we gotta do is shake that ship – "

"It ain't gonna happen!" Mal interrupted, still trying to convince a man who couldn't be reached. "Look – I ain't happy bout this my own self. Alliance is like to be lookin' for me, not you. But we try to run and they'll crush us. We're caught!"

Ray stepped across to the port side of the bridge, putting distance between himself and Mal, then he raised his gun and aimed it at Inara. He looked to Mal.

"I beg to differ."

Kaylee felt herself fuming again. Simon always took care of everyone else, and this was the thanks he got for it. He needed someone to take care of him like he deserved. If only the hatch was open…

That hatch could be unlocked from the bridge, and it occurred to her that she had every right to do it. This ship was Kaylee's girl; it didn't belong to no one else but her and the captain. She should be able to go wherever she needed to go. Besides, Mal and Inara didn't know that the infirmary was locked, and Kaylee couldn't use the comm. Not unless she knew everything was all settled. She'd have to go up top at some point to let them know.

Simon was sliding his arms into the sleeves of his shirt, moving carefully to avoid hurting himself. He had his head toward River; his sister was telling him something, and judging from the way his eyes shifted to Kaylee, it involved her.

He returned to the window and put his hand up against it. He spoke slowly, as if Kaylee could read his lips, but he said a lot and she couldn't make out the words. She put her hand up against his and looked into his eyes. She saw worry there - Simon was fretting over her. Even all bruised and hurt, he was more worried about her than himself.

"I'm gonna be back," she whispered "I'll be real careful, stay out'a the way if it's not all done. And when Mal and Inara get the best a'that sĭ guĭ, I'll unlock the hatch and come back n help you."

She smiled at him, pressing her palm harder into the glass as if the warmth of her hand would pass through and reach him, then she turned and headed up toward the bridge.

Inara tried to ignore the gun pointed at her, focusing on Ray's eyes instead. "You don't want to do this – "

"Don't you talk like you know me!" he snapped at her. "And don't be trying none of your fancy moves. I will shoot you."

"No you won't," she said calmly, but her right hand brushed against her robe, feeling the weight of the pistol in her pocket. She gripped her hand lightly around it, grateful that she had the gun as a backup. This Ray was a different man than one she'd talked to in her shuttle. His desperation was making him deaf to reason, blind to the reality of the situation.

"You don't need to shoot me," she continued. "I want to help you."

"You can help me by gettin' him to fly us out'a here!"

Mal started to speak, but Inara interrupted in a calmer voice than he would have used. "That's not possible. That's a battleship. It's made to chase down little ships like this one. It can destroy or disable us easily. But you can trust me – I'll help you talk to them. I'm sure they can be made to see reason."

Inara was grateful that, for once, Mal kept his opinion of the Alliance to himself. Ray glanced at the ship outside the window, as if considering his options, but his face was set with resolve, and he shook his head.

"No," he muttered. "They don't care a damn for people like me. I seen how them security bastards treat folks. They'd just as soon shoot me down as listen to a word I got to say."

While he was looking away, Inara felt the shape of the gun through the thin fabric of her robe. She shifted it so the butt was in her palm, and her finger brushed over the trigger guard. She could probably manage to disable Ray, to shoot him in the arm or shoulder…

But she didn't want to do it. _I'm a Companion,_ she thought. _I comfort people; I find the joy in them and bring it out. It is not my place to cause pain._ And yet, she'd been doing little else lately. That was life in the Black, that was the life she'd chosen to explore. It could bring out the beast in a man, and it had found the worst in her, too…

Inara noticed that Ray was watching her again, staring at her right hand, and he must realize that she had a weapon. She let go of it, holding out her hands and opening her mouth to explain, but then the ship rocked sideways and there was a metallic shriek from the starboard side of her.

"Cào wŏ!" Mal swore. "They shot at us!" He bent over the console checking the displays, then he muttered. "Everything's on line – that was just a warning. But I gotta shut her down, now!"

Inara had turned her head toward Mal and the ship outside the window, but she saw Ray moving and looked back. He was coming toward her and there was no mistaking the intent in his eyes. She reacted as quickly as she could, backing away from him and trying to push his gunhand away, but Ray was expecting it, and he deflected her hands.

Mal was out of the pilot's seat and about to leap on Ray, but suddenly he froze, staring. Inara felt something cold and hard press into the soft spot underneath her chin. Ray was holding the barrel of his gun against her. She looked him in the eye, trying to find compassion. She saw nothing but crazed determination.

"Captain," he said, and his voice was cool and flat. "Do we have an understanding?"

.*. .*. .*.

Simon watched Kaylee go into the cargo bay and start up the stairs.

"Did you think she understood?" he asked without turning around.

"She went," River replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's all that matters."

Kaylee disappeared from his view, and Simon turned to face his sister. "And you're sure she's needed up there?"

River nodded. Her eyes were focused down into the corner of the room, and she didn't look up as she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "Made a mistake. Didn't see both sides."

"Of what?"

She looked up at him. "Good end, bad means."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara's head tilted back as the gun pushed harder into her flesh.

"That ain't needed, Ray," Mal said. "They got us. I can't change that."

Ray ignored him for the moment. His hard eyes bored into Inara's. "Take that gun out," he ordered her in a quiet voice. "Move real slow, and drop it." Inara did as he said, and he used his foot to slide it toward the back of the bridge, out of Mal's reach.

"Captain," he continued in a louder voice. "You're gonna find a way out or the pretty lady here loses her head."

"Ray – " Inara started, but he didn't let her talk. He had his left hand on her shoulder, and he grabbed hold and pushed her back, making her stumble and come up hard against the lockers, the gun still pressing painfully under her chin. When he had her securely pinned against the wall, he turned to look at Mal.

"I'll kill her," Ray said in a certain voice. "Don't you doubt it."

There were a few small clicks as he cocked the gun. The barrel was pushing so hard that the back of Inara's head pressed painfully against the metal locker behind her. She tried not to think about it, or to imagine what it would feel like to have a bullet pass up through the center of her mouth, tear into her sinuses and settle in frontal lobe of her brain.

That was definitely the wrong thought to have. Inara felt her legs weaken; she couldn't move her head at all, couldn't see Mal's face, but she heard him take a step back and sit down at the helm. Then she felt a slight flutter in her stomach as the ship went into motion.

.*. .*. .*.

_Stolen Skuld shuttle – if you do not shut your engines down immediately, we will fire weapons to disable the transport and you will be held accountable for the cost of repair._

"That's just insulting," Wash whined. "They'd shoot us and then make us pay for it?" But he did as they said, setting about shutting the shuttle down.

He fired her right back up when exhaust from _Serenity_'s engines blew them toward the rings again.

"What is he doin' now?" Wash heard Bucky ask. He couldn't answer; he was too busy trying to right the shuttle. He had them steady again just in time to catch a glimpse of _Serenity_'s tail as she disappeared through a gap in the rings, a gap too narrow for the Alliance ship to follow.

_Stolen shuttle – you will shut down and stay where you are until we return._

"Um – okay," Wash muttered. There wasn't else much to be done. He finally shut the shuttle down fully, leaving just the life support on. The four of them sat in the darkness and watched the cruiser dive around the outer edge of the rings in pursuit of _Serenity_.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara swallowed hard, fighting down panic. She studied Ray, unable to see anything else. As soon as the ship began to move, he let out a breath and a bit of tension left his neck and shoulders. He had gotten his way, and some of the fight was leaving him. Probably, he was beginning to feel shock at what he was doing. He met her eyes again, and for the first time, Inara felt like he was really seeing her.

"How long can you keep this up?" she asked, trying to speak clearly, even though she could hardly move her jaw.

"Shut up," Ray said. But his voice lacked the ferocity it'd had before. Inara struggled to push her fear aside, to focus on reading him. Perhaps it wasn't too late to salvage this.

"You need to find a way to work with us," she continued. "It's the only way. You know by now that none of us are helpless, including me. As soon as you let your guard down – "

"Maybe I ought'a finish you off right now," he said, but his shaky voice belied the threat of his words, and Inara felt a twinkling of hope.

"You could kill me, but it won't do you any good."

"Inara, you're not helpin' the situation," Mal said over his shoulder.

"I don't think he's a murderer," Inara replied, still looking Ray directly in the eye. He was staring back, and she could tell that he was seeing the pain in her face and hearing the tension in her voice. _He's human_, Inara reminded herself. _Treat him that way, encourage it_. "He's desperate and frightened," she continued, ostensibly speaking to Mal, "but he's not a cold-blooded killer."

"You don't know anything," Ray said. "I've killed before. I've killed when I needed to." But the gun wasn't pressing as hard as it had been, and the hand clutching her shoulder was weakening.

"Not this time," she said as gently as she could. "There's another way."

His voice lowered so only she could hear him. "Lady, I don't want to hurt you." The gun backed off a little more, so it was touching her but not pressing. She was getting through to him.

"I know. You're better than this," she told him. "I know you are."

He shook his head. The gun pressed again and his words barely squeezed past his clenched teeth. "I told you - you don't know anything about me."

"I see more than you think. I know you're not cruel, that you didn't mean for all this to happen. I'll tell the Alliance that you took no part in the violence." She was able to move her head a little, and she saw Mal turn around, his mouth open to object, but she went on before he could speak. "I'm a Registered Companion, what I say has some weight. I'll do all I can for you."

The gun backed off again, so that it was barely touching her. Carefully, Inara raised her right hand, letting it slide up his forearm so he'd know what she was doing. No surprises now. Please, no surprises.

"It's all right, Ray. We'll work together. We'll get through this. All of us."

His free hand moved from her shoulder to her throat as her fingers reached the wrist of his gunhand. "Stop it," he whispered. "Don't make me hurt you."

"It's up to you whether you hurt me or not," she said. "You don't have to. You can choose."

Gently, she started pushing the gun away. For a second he let her, and she thought she had him. But then his eyes lit with determination and regret and he tightened his hold on her neck.

"No," he said, "there ain't no choice for me anymore."

Inara choked as her windpipe was squeezed closed, and he easily twisted his gunhand free of her grip. She couldn't move to avoid the blow she saw coming – he raised his right hand, ready to bring the gun down on her temple.

Before the blow could land, there was a gunshot from Inara's left.

.*. .*. .*.

Shepherd Book didn't move when the bound man finally raised his head and focused his eyes.

"You're gonna regret this," Will mumbled, and his face broke into a feeble grin. "You have no idea who I am."

"I can see enough for my needs," Book replied coldly.

The sound of a distant gunshot interrupted the man's reply. Book sat up straight and looked toward the hatch, tempted to go see what had happened.

"I hope it's that gorram bitch," Will muttered. "I hope she got a bullet right in her pretty face."

Book didn't reply. He stayed where he was, watching the bound gunhand until the man passed out again.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara coughed, dragging air through her bruised throat. She turned toward the back of the bridge to see Kaylee standing in the hatch, holding the gun that Inara had dropped. Kaylee didn't look at Inara; she was stared at the deck. Inara looked down too – Ray had crumpled in a heap, and he wasn't moving.

A voice startled her. "Were you bein' factual?" Mal asked, "about him bein' the last one?"

Inara was still gasping and couldn't speak, but she looked to him and nodded. Mal quickly turned back to the controls, and brought the ship to a hard stop.

Inara looked down at Ray again, then crouched beside him. The bullet had entered the side of his rib cage, which had been exposed when he raised his arm to strike her. She felt his neck – there was no pulse. Blood pooled on the deck at his side.

Distantly, she heard Mal speaking into the comm: "This is Captain Harbatkin … We were hijacked, I had no control over my ship till now. But the last of em is down. We won't resist…"

Kaylee voice, stern but forced, broke through Inara's shock. "He was chokin' you," she said. "He was gonna hit you." Inara looked up; the mechanic was gripping the edge of the hatch, her face pale and the gun hanging from her shaking hand. "He was gonna hurt you bad," Kaylee continued. "He was just like the other one."

"Mèi mei…" Inara started, but she broke into another fit of rough coughs.

"Is he…?" Kaylee's voice pinched out before she could finish the question. Inara couldn't answer, but she didn't need to. Kaylee knew. The girl slid down the wall awkwardly, landing heavily on the deck just outside the bridge, and she turned her face away from Ray.

"He was a bad man," she said quietly. "I had to…"

"Oh gods!" Inara said, realizing that Kaylee might be going to shock. She stood and stepped through the hatch, then crouched in front of the girl. Kaylee let Inara take the gun out of her hand, but she resisted Inara's attempt to hold her.

"Not now," Kaylee said, not looking at Inara. "Just leave me alone a sec. I gotta think bout this. I just gotta think…"

.*. .*. .*.

Mal had everyone gathered in the cargo bay as the Alliance finished docking. Everyone except River, who had given him a brief but tight hug as soon as she saw him coming down from the bridge. She was somewhere in the upper levels of the ship now; there hadn't been time to ask where she meant to hide. Wherever it was, it wasn't like to be good enough.

He had to prevent the Alliance from searching the ship. Everything else could wait. Just give them what they needed and stop them from searching…

The site of his crew brought him a nearly overwhelming wave of exhaustion. They didn't look much better than he felt. Simon was bruised and stood slightly hunched to one side, favoring his sore torso. Book was holding a compress to the back of his head, his wrists chafed and red. Inara had a bruise high on her cheek and red marks on her throat, and stood wavering on her feet. Kaylee…

Mal couldn't look at the mechanic. He was afraid of the change he'd see in her eyes. She'd had to shoot someone. Kill someone. His little Kaylee –

A hollow boom echoed in the bay as the docking equipment locked down. Mal turned forward, eyes scanning the bound man and woman lying next to the dead man on the deck.

_One problem solved,_ he thought. When the airlock door started to swing open, a dull voice in his mind added: _But the fun never ends…_

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
bào fó jiăo: clasp Buddha's feet; make a hasty last-minute effort  
mĕi zhōng bù zú: (idiom) a small problem in what is otherwise perfect  
āi yā: damn  
mèi mei: little sister  
sĭ guĭ: bastard  
cào wŏ: fuck me


	7. Part 7 of 9

**Easy Tickets: Part 7/9 (Chapters 19-21)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

* * *

Chapter 19.

Mal raised his hands as a contingent of Alliance troops stomped into the cargo bay, weapons raised like they were storming a fortress. What they were so gorram cautious about escaped him. He and his crew must present a pathetic sight, barely keeping to their feet. And his 'guests' looked even worse; one was dead and two were bound and unconscious, though Will had been making an effort to come out of it. Mal had taken an inordinate amount of pleasure in gagging the man to keep him quiet.

The last person to come through the hatch was an officer with a bunch of fancy pins neatly arranged on his uniform. He inspected the assembled group, and his reaction was more like what Mal expected – annoyance and disgust.

"Which of you is Captain Harbatkin?" the man asked.

"Here," Mal replied wearily. "And you are?"

"Lieutenant Brady." He stepped toward Mal and studied his face with open repugnance. "And which are the people who _allegedly_ took over your ship?"

"The three lyin' down," Mal said, motioning toward them. "Like I said over the comm, we took em out. The rest of these folks are my crew."

Brady's eyes wandered over the group. "And this is everyone on board?"

"There's a boy in the infirmary, got hurt pretty bad – "

"He was a passenger," Simon interrupted. "He got caught in the crossfire."

Mal aimed what he hoped was a subtle glare at the doctor, but Simon kept his eyes on the lieutenant. His face showed nothing but innocent doctorly concern.

"Very well," Lieutenant Brady said. He turned to dole out orders, and his underlings went about removing the three hijackers and bringing in a cargo hauler to carry away the bright blue cylinder. Then Brady turned back to Mal.

"You're very lucky, Captain. If it were up to me, I'd have the bunch of you locked away, and your ship torn apart and sold for scrap. But I've been given another reason to believe your story. For the time being, you will be treated as victims of a crime. You will stay here, and your ship will be locked down and docked to my cruiser. Do not attempt to power up, or I will change my mind and go about things my own way."

His soldiers left with their burdens, and he followed the last of them, but paused in the airlock to turn and add one more detail. "All of you should be prepared to be taken for questioning as I see fit," he said, then his eyes settled on Mal. "I will find out what part you really played in all of this mess."

Brady left the airlock open behind him. Mal walked across the bay and closed it, then he leaned against the control board and studied his crew.

A sorry sight – that's what it was. They all looked back at him dully, like they didn't know what to do. They were too damn tired to move. So was Mal. He was as drained as he could recall being in a long, long time. But he had his job to do. First thing: account for his crew. All of his crew.

He went to Kaylee. She looked at him steadily, but her face was pale and her eyes were rimmed with red. She was holding it together, but Mal knew there'd be repercussions to what she'd done. Poor girl had no idea.

"You know where Zoë and the others are?" he asked.

Kaylee shook her head, but didn't speak.

Mal prodded a little more, speaking as gently as he could. "I think they might have been in a little transport that's been tailin' us. You know anythin' about that?"

She shook her head again and answered softly. "Sorry, Cap'n."

"Mal – " Inara said from Kaylee's side. Mal glanced at her and Inara met his look with a tiny shake of her head. Mal understood – she was telling him to back off, to leave the girl alone. As if Inara understood what Kaylee was in store for.

"I know," he told Inara, then he turned to Simon. "Doc, you feelin' all right?"

"Yes, I managed to treat myself when I was locked – "

"Good," Mal interrupted. "See to Kaylee. Inara'll explain. After that, check out Inara, and the Shepherd. How's River?"

"She's fine," Simon answered. "She stayed out of everything."

As if on cue, River stepped onto the catwalk above them. Mal looked up to her, and she nodded and gave him a smile and a thumbs up. "Good," he said again. There weren't many words making themselves available in his head. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off his bleariness. Rest – he needed it, and so did everyone else.

"That's the plan for now," he said thickly, then realized he hadn't explained yet. "Everyone see the Doc, then get to your bunk and sleep, long as you can. I got no idea what's gonna happen next. We need to be ready to handle whatever the Alliance is after."

"You too, Mal," Inara said.

"Me too what?" he asked, genuinely befuddled.

"You should see the doctor, and get some sleep."

Mal nodded. No denying it; he was not in top form. "I will," he replied. "After the rest of you. Now go on."

Mal watched as Inara led Kaylee toward the infirmary. Simon walked beside them, reaching a hand toward Kaylee to help guide her. She pulled away from him. Seeing her react like that brought a hollow ache to Mal's chest. Kaylee had been through enough; she didn't need to be facing questions from the Alliance.

"Inara," Mal called, and all three of them turned back. "You tell Simon and Book what happened, and after that, I'm the one that shot Ray." He glanced around at all of them. "The Alliance asks any a'you, you tell the whole story, all the truth, except I'm the one picked up that gun and used it. You got it?"

Kaylee only stared at the deck, but Inara nodded her understanding. Simon gave Mal a perplexed look, but when Kaylee and Inara continued on their way, he turned to follow with Book close behind him.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee leaned against the counter, not contributing a word, as Inara told Simon and Book what had happened on the bridge. When she finished, there was an awkward silence.

"Kaylee?" Simon finally asked.

"I'm okay," she replied. "Y'all are making a big deal out'a nothing, but it's all right. I just did what needed doin'. Any a'you would'a done the same."

Simon wasn't sure what to do. He glanced at Inara, but she looked as helpless as he felt.

"You're not hurt at all?" he asked Kaylee.

"No. The Shepherd and the captain been though much worse. And Inara. You look to them first."

Simon caught Inara's eye again, and this time she gave him a small nod. He went to Book, checking the back of his head, but his attention was still on the two women across the room.

"You sure you're feeling okay, sweetie?" Inara asked Kaylee softly.

"Yeah," the mechanic answered, but she sounded unsure. She let her head tip down. "Well…" she continued, her voice distant. "It's odd… I keep seein' him fall down. I just keep seeing it. He looked like one of them puppets. A puppet that got all his strings cut. The way he just… fell."

Inara moved to take Kaylee's hand, but the girl folded her arms across her stomach, tucking her hands against her sides.

.*. .*. .*.

After the rest of the crew went to the infirmary, Mal took a seat on the stairs. There should be something for him to be doing. Something to check or fix or plan. Anything. But not a single thing came to him.

Maybe it was good enough to just be still and think. There was no emergency on his head now; he had time to get back to all the things he'd set aside for later. He could tie up loose ends. He just had to remember them.

His mind promptly went blank, and Mal sat on the stairs, staring on the deck, thinking about absolutely nothing.

"It happens for a reason," River said from behind him. Mal turned around; he hadn't heard her coming.

"Don't try to fight it," she added, then she came down the last few steps and sat beside him.

"I gotta fight everything," Mal said, his voice tired. "Everywhere I look, it's a gorram battle." He shook his head when he remembered who he was talking to, although it was a little to late to start hiding his weaknesses from this one. She'd seen everything there was to him already, and she'd proved she could handle it. He roused himself enough to smile at her.

"Little crazy girl," he said, his affectionate tone softening the words. "Seems you did some good things for me. Kept the bad guys busy while I was tryin' my best to get myself killed."

"Weren't trying for that. Just didn't understand."

"That I did not. Honestly, I'm still a mite confused." He shook his head. "Hell – I guess it'll clear up in time, with some sleep. But I'm glad you're all right. It's good that someone made it through all this in one piece."

"Happy to help," she said with a solemn nod. "Makes me feel useful."

He smiled at her again. He tended to forget – she was just a girl. Just a teenager trying to figure out her place in this 'verse. "You can help a little more," he said. "You got any idea about Zoë and Wash? And, hell, Jayne too? You know where they got to?"

River didn't answer right away. She turned away from him, and her forehead wrinkled up as she concentrated. Then she put a hand over her eyes.

"So tired," she said. "Bruised inside."

"Zoë's hurt?" Mal asked, alarm sneaking into his exhaustion.

River lifted her hand a little so she could peek out at him. "No – me."

Of course. He felt a little ashamed that he hadn't realized what all this must have taken out of her. "I guess hurts don't always show on the outside, do they?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "Worst ones never do. Invisible."

She stared at him, and fear and concern snuck into her face. Mal hesitated, then he reached out, put a hand around the back of the girl's head and leaned in to kiss her forehead, same as he would with Kaylee when she was upset.

"You get some rest," he ordered. "And don't you fret 'bout the Alliance. I won't let them get in here and find you, all right? I'll take care of it. You got nothin' to fear."

She nodded to him with big eyes, but didn't move to get up. Mal started to feel a little unhinged by her penetrating and sad-eyed stare.

"Go on," he said with a soft pat on her back, and finally River stood up. She looked down at him for a few more seconds, then turned and headed toward the infirmary.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon was just starting to put a few stitches in the back of Book's head when River leaned in the hatch.

"Captain's broken," she said simply, then, "I'm going to sleep now."

"Broken?" Simon asked, but River was gone already, stumbling toward her bunk.

A soft voice came from across the room. "She's right," Kaylee said. "They done somethin' awful to him."

Simon met Inara's eyes, and he saw the worry rising there. "What did they do, honey?" she asked Kaylee.

"The dark one," Kaylee mumbled, then she corrected herself. "The one in dark. He was just leavin' the bridge. I think he was goin' to see… I mean goin' to try n' hurt you." Kaylee's eyes drifted toward Inara, then away. "Cap'n was all tied up. Gagged. I thought he was dead – he wasn't hardly breathin'."

"Do you know what happened?" Inara asked.

Kaylee shook her head. "No. And I don't think he knew either. He was all… confused. That yāo guài did somethin' bad to him. I know it." Kaylee looked up at Simon, and her voice got stronger. "You take care a' him, kay? You take care a' the captain. And the Shepherd and Inara. They all got hurt so bad."

"But Mal's fine, honey," Inara insisted gently, although it didn't appear to Simon that she was surprised at what Kaylee said.

"And you needn't worry about me," Book said with a smile. "I'm a tough nián mài shān yáng; it takes more than one hard knock to get me down."

"Are you sure you don't need anything, sweetie?" Inara asked Kaylee softly.

Simon watched as Kaylee thought about it. She was pale, so pale her eyes looked bruised.

"I wanna sleep, I guess," Kaylee said. "I just wanna go to sleep… so I don't have to think bout him fallin' no more. I'm so tired, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep, no matter that the captain says I ought to…"

Inara looked to Simon, and he nodded to her. He'd just finished Book's stitches, so he went to prepare a hypospray with a mild smoother, just enough to induce sleep. He took it to Kaylee, pausing to allow her to stop him if she wanted. She just stood still, and watched while he injected her.

"Would you like to lay down in my shuttle?" Inara asked. "I'll stay with you."

Kaylee gave a distracted nod in reply, and Inara began to lead her out. Simon didn't stop them; comfort from a friend was likely to help Kaylee more than anything a doctor would be able to do. But then he looked more closely at Inara.

"You should come back so I can check those bruises," he told her.

"I'm not hurt, Simon," Inara replied softly, but with a strength he couldn't gainsay. "Just – check on Mal. Don't let him avoid getting help."

The two women left. Book didn't speak while Simon applied a bandage, and for that Simon was grateful. He had a hard enough time concentrating as it was.

He'd told Kaylee to go to the bridge. She'd been standing at the window in the infirmary, her hand against the glass, her eyes glowing warmly in a way that he'd come to take for granted. And then he'd told her to walk into an armed standoff. Whether she'd heard him or not really didn't matter; he could have tried to stop her, but he hadn't.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee was nearly asleep before she got into bed. Inara helped the girl remove her boots, then worked off her coveralls and socks. Inara pulled the covers over her and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down on a face that was so young and innocent. If only that innocence could survive ending a human life. Inara shook her head. It was her fault; she could have just shot Ray. She'd had her chance – she could have aimed to injure him. In the end, it would have saved his life, and spared Kaylee as well.

But Inara had thought that she understood him. She'd believed that she could reach him, control him. After all the mistakes she'd made in her life, how could she possibly believe that she could see to the core of any man? She should know by now that she wasn't omniscient, and that every person had complications that couldn't be seen from the outside.

A gentle knock on the hatch roused her from her thoughts. She looked up and saw Mal stepping tentatively into the shuttle.

"Saw you two comin' up here," he explained. "Thought I ought'a come by to check on Kaylee…" His voice trailed off when he caught sight of the girl's sleeping form.

Inara spread another blanket over the mechanic and stood, leading Mal back to the hatch. She turned to him, and almost raised a hand to his face before she stopped herself.

"Have you had Simon look at that?" she asked.

"Book's turn still. I'll be headin' down next."

"Good. I guess you had a… hard time of it here?"

"Wasn't fun," he agreed, then he grinned half-heartedly. "Well, some of it was, but I don't think it was supposed to be."

Inara gave him a questioning look, but he shrugged it off. "How 'bout you?"

She dropped her eyes. "I'll be all right, Mal."

"You bein' truthful about that?" he asked. "Cause I got this feelin' – "

"Mal, it's over, and I'm fine," she said firmly. "I just really need to sleep. I suggest you do the same."

Mal gave her a long look, but at last he nodded and turned away. He looked more than fatigued, he looked crushed, and Inara thought back to what River and Kaylee had said about him. Whatever he'd been through, there was no way he was going to open up to Simon about it.

"Mal," she called after him. "Kaylee said that he – that Will did something to you."

He looked back at her. "She did?"

"Yes. And you were acting a little strange when I – "

Mal turned away. "Girl's been havin' a hard time. She's confused."

Inara didn't have the energy to argue. She watched Mal leave the shuttle, then went to sit on the divan and watch Kaylee sleep.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal entered the infirmary and found Simon organizing medicine and bandages on the counter.

"Book all done?" Mal asked.

"Yes, I'll be with you in just a second."

Mal gave the doctor time to finish whatever he was doing. He stood at the foot of the exam table, arms crossed in front of him, looking at the boy lying unconscious on it.

"I don't normally adopt folks I shoot," Mal said.

"I must admit, I'm a little curious," Simon said. "Why exactly did you?"

Mal looked sidelong at Simon. "It wouldn't a'been so good to counter a lie told to Alliance troops by a certain fugitive medic I'm harborin'."

"I don't suppose I can blame River for that?" the doctor asked.

"She's a talented gal, but she can't put words in a person's mouth. At least, not last I checked."

Simon sighed, glancing at his patient. "She said that he's all right, and that he was blameless in this."

"Blameless, sure," Mal said, "unless you count takin' a few shots at me."

"Really?" Simon stopped was he was doing and looked Mal in surprise.

"I didn't shoot the boy down for the fun of it, Simon."

Mal's voice was tired, not angry, but Simon looked abashed anyway. "No, I suppose not."

Mal changed the subject. "So – everyone's gonna be all right?"

"Book has a concussion, but it's minor. He needed a few stitches, and with some rest he should be all right."

"Kaylee and Inara?"

"I gave Kaylee something to help her sleep. She was… she was acting like it was all right, but I think she's in shock. She's just... she's not a killer."

"Funny what livin' in the Black will make a person do," Mal said.

"Not all that funny," Simon said softly. "She wanted to sleep and I couldn't… It's not the best solution but I couldn't say no to her. I don't know how else to help. The shock is emotional. Other than keeping her hydrated and rested, I don't know how…"

Mal studied Simon's face; the doctor had never been one to show doubt in any matter tied to his profession, but his frustration and helplessness were clear. Mal understood; he felt the same way. He had an idea of how Kaylee must be feeling, but it'd been so long since his soul had been as innocent as hers that he wasn't sure he could be of any help. Killing and death were a part of Mal now; he couldn't imagine life without them.

"Inara?" he asked.

"She's all right."

"And how bout yourself?"

"I'll be fine."

"Broken ribs can take some time to heal."

"I've done what I can. I'll just have to take it easy."

Mal nodded. "You do that."

"Okay, I'm ready," Simon said, looking up from the collection of small syringes he'd just prepared, and Mal went to stand next to him.

"You're lucky nothing is broken," Simon said, looking at the right side of Mal's face where he'd been hit with the butt of his own gun. "These injections will speed the healing of the bruises."

"Thanks," Mal said with a tired grin. "I do hate lookin' ugly."

.*. .*. .*.

River lay curled up in her bed, drifting on the edge of sleep. She heard Book come to his bunk, but he left after only a few minutes. Going to talk to Mal. Make Mal accept help.

That was good. The captain needed help, but River couldn't do it anymore. Too many dividers in too many minds, and busting through them left bruises that were slow to heal. She couldn't take any more.

For a while, she thought she might have to go back to Simon, get him to mix up something in a needle like the medicine he'd given Kaylee, but just as she decided to get up, she finally slipped over the fuzzy line into sleep.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon was quiet while he treated Mal, and surprised at the lack of complaints; the captain had never been a pliant patient. But, right now, he looked to have other things on his mind, and he stood still with nothing more than few small winces.

Simon set down the tiny syringe he'd just finished with and picked up another. "I heard you had some problems."

"Who told you that?"

"Kaylee. She said she found you bound, gagged, and unconscious on the bridge, and that you seemed to not know what had happened."

Mal looked away from Simon, his face pensive. "Bound and gagged?"

"Yes."

"I don't recall that."

"Do you think you might have memory loss?"

Mal didn't blink at the question, as if he were expecting it. That was a more telling answer than what he said. "Wouldn't be a shock if I did," Mal said, then he smiled grimly. "I got my bell rung somethin' fierce."

"Can you tell me what you remember? Of events on bridge?"

Mal looked away, obviously uncomfortable with the discussion. But he didn't refuse to talk about it, as Simon half expected he would. "Well, I, uh… I guess I was a mite loopy right after you woke me up to fly the ship." He looked back at Simon. "You saw that for yourself."

"Yes. You're fortunate you didn't get yourself killed."

Mal smiled. "I had some help from your sister. And from you."

Simon didn't answer for a moment. He was finished, but he inspected the left side of Mal's face, trying to keep the captain there so he'd keep talking.

"What's the part you don't remember?" Simon asked.

Mal's smile broadened to a grin. "If I knew that, it wouldn't be a problem."

"I mean, what happened right before and after the time you don't remember?"

The grin went away as Mal thought about it, and then he took an impatient breath. "I just had a few fuzzy minutes on the bridge. You done yet?"

"Almost. But it would help if we worked out what happened. With the amount of strain you've been under, and the things that happened to you on Oeneus – "

"Look, Simon, I got my head beat and you shot me with drugs, end of story. I got other things to do then humor you while you play shrink."

There'd been a time when Simon might have pushed, but he'd learned that the captain didn't take kindly to it. He decided to let the matter go. For now. He stepped back, and Mal immediately walked toward the hatch.

"Mal – "

Mal turned, and his voice was sharp. "I told you, Simon, I don't want to deal with it right now."

Simon held out a small tube. "Ointment. Twice a day."

Book was sitting outside the infirmary. "Where you off to, Captain?" he asked.

Mal stopped mid-stride, and realized that he had no answer. There had to be something that needed doing, but again he couldn't think of a thing.

"I guess… I guess I ought'a stay here," he said. "In case the good lieutenant comes back." Mal rubbed his eyes as something else occurred to him. "Lăotiān yĕ – I still got no idea where Zoë and them got to."

Book's voice was firm when he replied. "You're not like to find out by sitting around here. I've got it taken care of. Go to sleep."

"But I…"

"Captain, the Alliance will be back, with all their questions that need answers. Are you capable of handling that as you are right now?"

Mal stood with his head bowed. He didn't look up, but he shook his head. Truth was, he wasn't up to a gorram thing at the moment.

"Get some sleep," Book ordered quietly. "I'll send for you as soon as anything happens. I haven't had such a trying time as you have; I'll be fine taking my rest right here."

Mal finally looked up at Book, and felt a wave of the gratitude for the offer. "I'm feelin' near dead on my feet. Thank you, Shepherd."

"It's not a problem, Mal. It's never a problem."

Mal started toward the stairs, but a dull boom stopped him. He turned back toward the cargo bay – Lieutenant Brady was back with his retinue. Mal should have expected another downturn in the situation. Wouldn't be right if things were easy.

"I got it, Shepherd," he said, and he went to the bay with his shoulders slumped.

Brady got right to what he was after without even an antagonistic and condescending how-do-you-do. "I understand that you have a Companion on board," he said.

Despite his exhaustion, Mal was a little startled by the question. He hadn't expected things to go in that direction. "She ain't part of my crew," he replied, "just hires out a shuttle."

"I didn't ask if she was part of your crew. I don't care one way or another. I need her here. Now."

"Look, she ain't had any part in this," Mal said. "I don't understand why – "

"Captain," Brady said impatiently, "bring her here."

Mal frowned at the line of blank-faced armed soldiers behind the Lieutenant, then he stiffly turned toward the comm and called up to the shuttle.

"Inara, you're needed in the cargo bay. The Lieutenant wants a word. "

Her reply was smooth and unruffled. _I'll be right down._

Brady clearly wasn't interested in chatting, and Mal lacked the energy to try. They waited silently until Inara's soft footsteps came down the stairs. Mal didn't look up at her, just stared at the deck.

"Yes, Captain?" she asked.

Brady replied before Mal could speak. "You will come with us."

Inara turned to the soldier. "Lieutenant Brady, was it?"

"Correct."

"Am I under arrest?"

"I'm not under orders to arrest you, but I will if necessary."

Mal knew Inara was glancing at him, but he couldn't meet her eye.

"Will I be staying long?" she asked.

"I'm not at liberty to disclose that information."

"Will I need a change of clothes? Toiletries, perhaps? A nightgown?"

Brady looked taken aback, like he hadn't considered that complication. He glanced at the troops behind him, then lifted his chin, as if the discussion of Inara's needs was beneath his dignity. "You may bring one small bag, but it will be thoroughly searched," he said stiffly.

Inara nodded and returned to her shuttle. While they waited, a question occurred to Mal.

"Lieutenant," he said. "I have reason to believe the rest of my crew was tryin' to get to the ship and help –"

"And again you assume I care," the man answered coldly.

"I'd just like to know if they're all right. They were in a small transport, near where you found us."

Brady held Mal's eye for a few seconds before he replied. "They are under arrest for theft of Cartel property, as well as a number of very serious traffic violations. I'm not sure it would be wise to claim them as part of your crew."

"If I could just talk to em – "

"Captain, if you attempt to leave your ship or use your comm, I will have my engineers disable whatever power source you have on this…" he looked around the bay, "…_thing_ and move you all into locked cells. Is that qīng chu?"

Mal didn't answer, just stared at the deck until Inara returned.

"Captain?" she asked.

He replied without raising his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Don't leave Kaylee alone. I promised I'd stay with her, but…"

He looked up. "She'll be taken care of."

"Thank you."

Inara held his eye for a second longer than she needed to, looking hard like she was memorizing his face. Mal stared back, realizing that he'd never even found out how she got that bruise.

Then the moment was broken; she turned and handed her bag to one of the guards and let herself be led from the ship.

After they left, this time closing the door behind them, Mal returned to the back of the bay. Book was standing just out of sight through the hatch.

"I couldn't do anything," Mal said dully.

"No, you couldn't."

"Why the hell they'd take her? What are they gonna do?"

"She's a Companion, Mal. That protects her better than any of us could. Now – go get some sleep."

"I gotta watch over Kaylee."

"We'll take care of that," Simon said, stepping out from the infirmary. "Go."

Mal nodded stupidly. He was barely aware of what he passed on his way up through the ship, and wasn't sure how he managed to climb down the ladder to his bunk and find his way to his bed, but he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
yāo guài: monster  
nián mài shān yáng: old goat  
lăotiān yĕ: god  
qīng chu: clear

* * *

Chapter 20.

Inara sat in her cell and waited.

The cell was tastefully furnished and decorated. The upholstery of the soft chair on which she reclined was of above average quality, and the sheets of the small bed pressed against the wall were clean and soft. The overhead light had a warm, slightly yellow glow, not the blueish-white harshness of fluorescence. A sliding door opened to an odorless bathroom which had bottles of liquid soap and lotion of quality brands. Drinking water and, most surprisingly, a bowl of fruit sat on the center of the table in front of her.

It wasn't a cell for ordinary criminals, but it was a cell nonetheless.

A lock had slid shut behind the guards when they left her there. The furniture was bolted down. The fruit bowl and the water bottle and cups were made of a non-brittle plastic. There were no other objects that could be lifted and used as weapons; even the soap and lotion containers in the bathroom were attached to the counter. Inara was fairly certain that there was at least one camera in the room, but she didn't bother looking. It would be small and well hidden.

She wondered what the Alliance was hoping to gain by leaving her like this for so long. Her nerves did a lively dance as she thought about it; she wasn't as blameless as she'd been when she'd left the Core. She'd broken the law multiple times in the past year, and knowingly protected fugitives.

But only a fool would think a Companion would crack under this kind of pressure, would outwardly show guilt. Of course, in the past few days she had proven herself quite capable of careless behavior. Her actions on the Skuld platform showed a shocking lack of control. If that was the reason she was here, it would be the end of her career. She wouldn't go to jail; the Guild was too protective of its members to allow that. But, according to Guild law, she'd lose her license, as well as the respect that is due a Companion after she retires from taking clients. It would, essentially, ruin her life.

And deservedly so. There was no excuse for what she'd done. It was her own fault, really. A Companion must be focused on her client, open and aware of his or her motivations and state of mind. Inara had had plenty of signs of what Peter was; if she'd paid her usual attention, she would have ended the appointment before it reached the point that it did, or at least directed their interaction differently.

There were reasonable, legal ways of dealing with a man like Peter Skuld. But she'd been preoccupied with her frustration over Mal, too busy fuming to see what was right before her. She'd stubbornly forged on, determined to have a successful encounter with her client. As if it would make some kind of statement about her independence, her worth.

She had been self-absorbed and unprofessional. And perhaps now she was going to pay the price.

.*. .*. .*.

River dreamed while she slept.

The medication Simon had given her had worn off, and voices and images flew through her mind faster than she could understand or control. Some of these things came from strangers, people in the bigger ship that surrounded _Serenity_, but those were far away, and stayed in the background.

The closer minds, the people whose presence dominated her thoughts, were the few left on the Firefly. They were the ones she knew and trusted, and though their dreams were troubling and sad, they were all still here with her, and that was comforting.

Simon's color was red, in many shades that jarred and then blended together. It was the background of the place he slept, curled around himself on the divan. The sofa hadn't been meant for sleeping; the curve of it didn't fit his body and he couldn't straighten fully. He kept getting up, crossing the shuttle and stretching out on the bed next to Kaylee. He'd hold her in his arms so that she'd feel safe, but then he'd remember that she could never be safe with him and the thought would make him wake up with a start to find himself still twisted on the divan. He'd stare across the impossible gulf between himself and the mechanic huddled under the covers on the big, soft bed, and after trying and failing to find a more comfortable position, he'd fall back into his dreams.

Kaylee's color was black. It was the Black outside the windows of the bridge, the darkness she tried to look at instead of letting her eyes follow the man who, again and again, fell to the deck, choked on a few labored, painful breaths, and then lay still.

The captain had no single color. He was a vessel full of holes, and too many things poured in and drained out to be seen. The fragments falling out the bottom of him were caught in a trough and flowed impossibly like an Escher drawing, rushing downhill to cascade off a cliff above his head, falling into him again. There was nothing to stop the stream, and as it passed over and through him it left cuts and bruises and burns.

Book was nothing but a sound. The hollow clank of a hatch being released repeated in his mind just inside his ears. He was waiting for the sound to come in from the outside, to call him into wakefulness and action.

Of course, Jase's color was blue with a sparkling band cutting through it, and River tried to stay with him. But strong currents, currents like those that moved through the captain, drew her away. They carried her around and around in the kaleidoscope of dreams. From time to time, she felt distant sprays of frustration, worry, and boredom from Zoë, Wash, and Jayne, and once she passed through a deep pool of Inara's fatigue and trepidation, but the pressure of the flow always forced her to move on.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara wasn't sure how long she sat. She was tempted by the bed beside her, but she couldn't shake the notion that as soon as she lay down on it, the door would open and the inevitable confrontation would begin. Taking her rest would be like an admission of defeat to those who were watching her.

She knew the idea was ridiculous, but still she couldn't make herself give up the imagined battle. She held herself upright and stared at the bowl of fruit on the table, trying to distract her mind and calm her nerves by picturing the attack she could mount with four apples, three oranges, six plums, and three bananas. She could set up an ambush. Definitely the plums would be the most satisfying – the apples would hurt more, but the plums had the best chance of bursting open and staining the purplebelly uniforms.

She'd managed to work herself into a soft smile when the door opened and a man and a woman entered the cell. They were not in uniform, but their clothing looked uncomfortable and plain enough that there must be some sort of dress code responsible. Civil servants?

"Miss Serra," the man said. "I am Agent Kain. This is Agent Alvarez."

Inara nodded and extended a hand, and was somewhat surprised when they both accepted her gesture politely, if somewhat stiffly. They sat down across from her, each setting a digital data sheet on the table.

The woman, Alvarez, took over the introduction. Her words flowed smoothly, as if she'd spoken them countless times before. "The branch of the government we work for is referred to as the Office of Professional Responsibility," she said. "We investigate incidents and plausible suspicions of lawbreaking and misconduct attributed to officers of the state and those the state contracts with."

Kain leaned his elbows on the table and took a deep breath before he spoke, both gestures serving to realease tension. His manner was less formal than his partner's. "You must be wondering why you were brought here to speak with us," he said with a smile that bordered on friendly. He looked pleasant and non-threatening, with neatly trimmed light brown hair and a cleanly shaven face. But Inara wasn't feeling inclined to return his warmth.

"I might have wondered," she said, "if I had known that speaking with you was the reason I'm here."

"We apologize for the circumstances, and for keeping you waiting so long," he replied. "It's been rather a hectic day."

"For more than yourselves," she replied coldly.

"So it would appear," Alvarez said, seeming impatient with her partner's platitudes and eager to get down to business. "Miss Serra, we understand you just had an… assignation with Peter Skuld." Her tone held just a hint of disapproval.

"'Appointment' is the commonly used word," Inara replied.

The woman tilted her head, expressing her irritation with no attempt at subtlety. "When exactly did this 'appointment' take place?"

Inara felt her chest tighten with apprehension; her time with Peter was the one thing she didn't want to discuss. "Companion-client relations are, by law, a private matter," she replied as calmly as she could.

"I understand that a Companion would want to protect her client," Kain said, and Inara bit her cheek, barely holding in an expression of disgust. That sentiment certainly didn't apply to this situation.

The man continued without noticing her reaction. "There are larger issues at stake here, and you mustn't let your fondness for your client get in the way of your patriotism, your duty to the government which does so much to make your lifestyle possible."

His tone was kind, as if he were speaking to a child he was fond of. Suddenly, Inara understood the roles being played here. The woman, Alvarez, was the aggressive questioner, the 'bad cop,' and the man was the trustworthy friend. It was the obvious approach to take when questioning a beautiful woman, one who specialized in the pleasing of men and might see another woman as competition. Maybe they didn't realize that she took female clients as well as male.

Inara smiled ironically at the thought, which seemed to annoy Alvarez. The woman took over from her colleague, cutting off his lecture on civic duty. "There are indeed serious issues involved," she said sternly. "Attempting to economically destabilize the government by attacking a supply of basic necessities is not a private matter."

Inara arched her eyebrows, and paused just long enough to make them think she wasn't going to speak. Then, just as Alvarez opened her mouth to continue, Inara replied. "If that was an accusation, Agent Alvarez, I'd prefer it be made in a formal manner so I can summon legal counsel."

"That won't be necessary," Kain replied quickly. "We'd just like to discuss the time you spent with Peter Skuld."

Inara barely stopped herself from shifting in her seat. "I wish to have representation present if I'm to be questioned."

The two agents exchanged glances. "There's no need to be defensive," Alvarez said, and she studied Inara closely.

"Then why have you been holding me in a locked cell?"

"It was convenient," Alvarez replied, and she sighed impatiently. "Let's make this easy. Miss Serra; we're well aware of the history of the ship you've been traveling on."

"Oh?"

"Firefly class transport _Serenity_," the woman said, perusing her data sheet, "owned and captained by one Malcolm Reynolds, not the fictional 'Captain Harbatkin'." She glanced up at Inara, as if looking for confirmation. Inara held her neutral expression, and the woman continued. "Reynolds is an ex-Independent, now a smuggler and small-time thief with a history of civil disobedience, and he was recently questioned regarding terrorist activity on Oeneus – "

"Terrorist activity?" Inara interrupted. "That's ridiculous!"

"Perhaps." The woman set down the data sheet and looked at Inara, holding her stare aggressively. Alvarez's dark brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and there was barely a trace of makeup around her olive green eyes. Even so, she wasn't unattractive, and she'd be quite beautiful if she were dressed and styled in a feminine manner. The questioners had been carefully chosen; an unattractive woman would be at a disadvantage. Only a similarly beautiful woman could be properly threatening to Inara.

They really wanted something, and if it was simply to bring assault charges against her, they wouldn't be trying so hard. Inara almost smiled again as she realized that, at the heart of it, she was the one in control of this situation.

Agent Alvarez continued, unfazed by Inara's frank inspection. "I wonder what we would find if we searched the Firefly. We've already identified a number of misdemeanors visible from the outside. Give us half an hour inside that ship, and I'm sure we could have the crew in jail for quite a while, and that would make you an accessory. I can't imagine that a criminal record would be good for your career."

Alvarez didn't look away; she seemed to think she had the upper hand. Inara knew better, but she broke the dueling stare first. She poured some water and took a sip, then deliberately took her time setting the cup down.

"Darling," Inara said to the woman, pitching her voice to roll out like velvet. "I've had a few very, very long days. Don't waste my time with threats. Just tell me what it is you want…" She rolled the base of the water glass in a small circle on the table, making the clear liquid swirl. "…and then I'll tell you what I want in return."

.*. .*. .*.

Book was deeply asleep when the sound of the opening hatch carried into the common room. It was the sound he'd been listening for, and it drew him out of his sleep immediately. He checked the time piece he'd set on the table in front of him; it'd been almost six hours since Mal had gone to his bunk and Simon had headed up to Inara's shuttle to watch over Kaylee. That was more rest time then Book had expected them to get, although the Good Lord knew that they could all use more.

He took a few seconds to straighten his clothing, preparing to talk business with the surly Alliance Lieutenant, then he stepped into the bay. What he saw was not at all what he expected.

Zoë had come through the smaller entrance and closed it behind her, and was now at the control board. The large airlock door slid open, and Jayne's hovercraft came aboard, carried on an orange cargo mover driven by an Alliance worker. A few soldiers stood behind, in the airlock of the Alliance ship, watching casually as Wash directed the driver to set the hovercraft down on the starboard side of the bay. Wash exchanged a friendly handshake with the driver, and waved goodbye to his armed escort as Zoë closed the doors again.

Jayne and a strange man had also come in, and as soon as the door sealed shut they all turned and saw Book.

"Shepherd," Zoë said with casual nod of greeting. "Where's the captain?"

"He's… asleep," Book replied, still not quite caught up with the turn of events. "Everyone's asleep."

"Asleep?" Wash asked dramatically. "Here we are, knocking ourselves out with the big rescue attempt, and we end up in jail while they're all sleeping!"

"Sleep sounds good to me," Jayne said, and set out up the stairs. "I could use some down time. I even got beer left…" He paused and glared at Book. "That is – if no one's been at it."

"Don't worry yourself, Jayne," Book replied. "We've been a little too busy to pilfer your beer."

"Better be the truth of it," Jayne grumbled, "Or someone owes me money." He climbed the stairs and disappeared through a hatch.

"So, seriously," Wash asked. "Is everyone all right?"

"More or less," Book replied. "Except Inara. She's not hurt," he added quickly at Wash's worried expression, "but she's been taken by the Alliance."

"Taken?" Zoë asked.

"About six hours ago. They didn't explain, and we haven't heard a word since."

"Ain't that odd," Zoë murmured.

"How 'bout yourselves?" Book asked. "You doin' all right?"

"Helluva lot better than we were ten minutes ago," Zoë replied. "The captain's in his bunk?" She started up the stairs before Book answered.

"Yes, but…I'm not sure you should wake him."

Book's tone made Zoë stop on the landing and look down at him. "What is it, preacher?"

"He's had a hard time of it. He really needs his rest."

"He can get it later," Zoë said sternly, and she continued up the stairs.

Book watched Zoë go, then he turned back and looked at the tall man next to Wash; there were a lot of tales that needing telling. He pointed at the stranger. "Who's…?"

"Oh," Wash said. "That's right. You haven't met. This is Bucky. We heard there was a big party and thought we'd bring him along. I sure hope there's enough champagne and party favors–"

"Where's Jase?" the man interrupted, making Wash give up his joke. "They said he was here. Is he okay?"

Book saw fear in the man's eyes. He didn't ask any more questions, just guided Bucky to the infirmary.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë didn't hesitate to push open the door to Mal's bunk and climb down the ladder, then she slapped the panel to turn on the brightest lights in the room. She needed Mal awake – all kinds of oddness had been afoot lately, and she needed to sort it out with the captain.

Mal didn't wake up immediately, which was surprise enough. One learned to wake quickly when in the military, fighting a war. He was stretched out, fully clothed, on top of his bed, but he didn't look to be sleeping peacefully. His face was covered over in sweat, and he was breathing shallow and fast.

"Captain?" Zoë asked. She gave his arm a nudge and he grunted, as if he was having a bad dream. She tried again – it took a good hard shake to rouse him, and then he pushed himself up to sitting, blinking in the bright light and sliding away from her to press his back against the bulkhead.

"What the – " he muttered.

"It's all right, sir. It's me."

His eyes found her. "Zoë?"

"Yeah."

He bent forward, wiping his hands over his face. He was still short of breath. "Where's Inara?"

"Book said she's with the Alliance."

"He ain't heard nothing?"

"Nope."

"They took her away, Zoë. Just took her, and I couldn't do anything. Couldn't hardly move."

"Couldn't move?"

"Zaō gaō! Kaylee – I'm supposed to be watchin' her." He slid across the bed and started to stand up, but Zoë put a hand on his shoulder to make him stay sitting.

"The preacher's keepin' watch, Mal. He said everyone's asleep."

"But, Zoë, I…" His voice trailed off, and he turned his head away, looking confused.

"What is it?" Zoë asked.

He put his hands over his face again. "I dunno. Gōu shī – somethin' ain't right. Somethin' sure ain't right."

She opened her mouth, but then closed it again without asking what he meant. The Shepherd might have had a point, about how the captain needed his rest. "How 'bout you go on back to sleep," she said, "and I'll check in with the rest of the crew."

He shook his head. "No – I can't sleep now. I have to get all this settled. I have to, uh…" He stood up, one hand still on the bed to balance himself, and looked around the cabin. Then he sat right back down, taking a few deep breaths. Zoë waited until he looked up at her.

"Zoë?"

"The one and only. Sir."

"You're on my ship."

"Apparently so."

"How'd that happen?"

"Well, sir, we got ourselves a transport and found _Serenity_ in orbit – "

He waved his hand impatiently, as if telling her to skip ahead. "I figured that part – the Alliance nabbed you at the same time as they got us, right?" Zoë nodded, and Mal looked thoughtful. "Bet your husband was drivin', wasn't he?"

"As he usually is," she replied haltingly, unsure as to why Mal was asking; it was hardly an important detail. But then the captain grinned.

"The good lieutenant said something about traffic violations. _Serious_ traffic violations."

Zoë was relieved by his smile and the way his shoulders had relaxed just a little. She sat down next to him and shook her head sadly. "I tell him to slow down, but …"

"Man never does listen." Mal rubbed his eyes again, as if trying to wake up and pull himself together. His breathing had evened out, but he seemed a little twitchy, like it was hard for him to stay still.

"Last I heard," he said after a bit, "you were all gonna rot in an Alliance cell for a good long time."

"It was looking that way to us, too. But then they let us go. Didn't ask a thing. Didn't even say a thing, just came to get us, loaded up the mule, and brought us here."

"Wash and Jayne?"

"Yep, them too. And we got a guest."

Mal didn't look pleased about that. He didn't look pleased at all. "I'm a little tired of new people on my boat."

"Nowhere else for him to go. He helped us get the transport, and he's under arrest too, for theft."

"I got another criminal on my ship?"

"He ought'a fit right in, sir."

Mal shook his head in resignation, then he stood up again and went to the sink to splash water over his face. "Hell, I guess I better go meet him," he said as he grabbed a towel. "I hope he ain't expectin' a warm welcome."

"Actually, Wash did talk it up a bit…"

"Well then, maybe I ought'a clean up a little." Mal he looked down at himself and wrinkled up his nose. "Go on – I need to change."

"Like anyone on this boat ain't seen it, sir," Zoë said, but she stood up and went up the ladder, giving him time to freshen up.

Swapping light jibes seemed to help Mal get himself grounded, but Zoë'd been watching him closely the whole time. He'd been barely keeping himself calm. She really needed to know what the hell had happened on this ship.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal followed Zoë until she stopped next to Book just outside the infirmary. A stranger was sitting next to the patient bed, his head bowed over a limp hand that he held in both of his own. Mal stepped around Zoë and Book to entered the room, and the man heard him and looked up. His eyes were shining wetly; he didn't say anything, just sat quietly like he was waiting for Mal to take the lead. Mal wasn't sure where to start. He hadn't expected to find his newest guest in tears.

He looked back at the door. "Zoë?"

"I guess… it's a long story, sir."

"I'm Ray's brother," the man said, and his eyes traveled between Mal and Zoë, waiting for a reaction. "My name's Bucky. Bucky Whittaker." When no one answered him, his gaze settled on Mal. "I take it you're the captain?"

Mal crossed his arms, sternly looking down at the man. "That I am. You know that Ray's dead?"

Bucky took a deep breath, then let it out long and slow. He looked at the floor. "I know now."

Mal shifted a little, glancing at Zoë and Book. "We'd best clear the air right now. I'm the one that killed him, and he had it comin'."

Bucky looked up sharply, and Mal dropped his arms to his sides, not sure if he was about to get jumped on. His right hand touched his hip, but he had no gun there; he'd put it away for the duration of his stay with the Alliance.

But Bucky only grunted and looked down again, shaking his head. "I wouldn't be surprised," he said. "He's been askin' for it for some time."

"Well," Mal replied after a confused pause. "I'm glad you agree. But… but that ain't all. You need to understand that I ain't feelin' too kind toward new faces on my boat. I hope you don't think you'll be stayin' long."

The man surprised Mal again when he smiled grimly. "That's some mighty clear air you got in here, Captain." Mal didn't react, but Bucky looked at him and continued, talking slow and tired like a man who'd moved beyond fear. "I got no wish to trespass, but I can't leave this one behind. Not again." He looked at the boy and squeezed the hand he was still holding. "As soon as I get a chance, we'll move along and leave you to your peace."

Mal considered it. "You tellin' me he means something to you?"

Bucky hesitated, then looked down and cleared his throat. "I got good reason to think he's my son."

Mal blew out a breath and stepped back to lean against the counter. He looked at Zoë, who gave him an _I-had-no-idea-don't-blame-me_ shrug. Mal pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and tried to work it out. Whatever he'd been expecting when Zoë woke him up, it sure as hell wasn't a family reunion taking place in his infirmary.

"Book," he said firmly.

The Shepherd stepped around Zoë and leaned in through the hatch. "Yes, Captain?"

Mal pointed at Bucky. "Keep an eye on him."

Mal went out into the common room and slightly around the corner; Zoë followed. All he needed to do was give her a look, and she set about explaining.

"Bucky's kind of the friend of a friend," she said. "You remember that lady Xiaojun we were goin' to see for parts? Well, we asked her 'bout the kid and – "

Mal held a hand up. "Enough. We'll have storytime later. He trustworthy?"

"I won't be handin' him a gun or puttin' him at the helm, but I think he's all right," Zoë replied. Mal's doubtful expression didn't change, so Zoë continued. "Look, he came with us just because he heard about that kid, and he clearly didn't think much of that fella Ray, blood relation or not."

Mal sighed. "What am I supposed to do with him? I got enough to deal with." He rubbed his eyes and looked beat enough that Zoë again regretted waking him up.

"Captain, there ain't much happenin' right now, and nothing we can do. Let's work out the details later. You're lookin' like you need some more shut-eye."

"I can't have a stranger on my ship unless I know everything I can about him."

"Do you trust me, sir?"

Mal looked her in the eye. "You know I do, Zoë."

"Then go back to bed."

Mal leaned against the outside wall of the infirmary and thought about it. "I will – if you'll do somethin' for me."

"Just name it," she said softly.

"You come and wake me up as soon as you get any word about Inara."

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë didn't answer, surprised at the vehemence of his demand. Mal seemed to realize what he'd said, and how he'd said it, a little too late.

"Look," he continued weakly, "she had a real hard time, I'm just worried…" He sighed impatiently. "Aw, hell with it, think what you want. But let me know, you got it?"

Mal seemed to expect ridicule, but there was nothing about his concern for Inara that Zoë found amusing. Here was something more she needed to know about – what could have happened to make the captain outwardly show this kind of worry?

Zoë finally nodded in reply, and Mal turned and left without another word. She watched him go, and noticed that Book had stepped out of the infirmary as soon as Mal passed by.

"We need to talk," the Shepherd told her.

"Bout what?"

Book pointedly looked the way Mal had gone, then back at Zoë. She nodded and joined him on the sofa in the common space.

.*. .*. .*.

An alarm broke into Inara's troubled dreams. By the time she found the bedside clock and turned it off, the details of the nightmare had already faded, but the grief lingered. She sat in the dim nightlight as her uneasiness slowly faded, and finally she remembered what needed to be done.

She turned up the lights and did the best she could in the cell's small half bath. Not that her appearance mattered, but it was a routine she was accustomed to, and the familiarity of it steadied her.

Agent Kain arrived exactly when he'd said he would, and he led Inara down a few corridors to a large utilitarian office. There were no decorations on the walls, no artwork or plaques, and the floor was of cold gray tile. On the far side of the room, Lieutenant Brady sat at a large desk with his hands folded in front of him.

Facing him were two tables; Agent Alvarez sat at one, her bun and suit just as polished and bland as they'd been the night before. Seated at the other table were a strange man in a suit that screamed _high priced lawyer_, and Beyla Skuld. Inara had expected to see the woman, and she didn't pause, just took her seat next to Alvarez as Kain took the chair on Inara's other side.

"This is everyone?" Brady asked.

Agent Kain stood up. "We believe the Peter Skuld was involved in the crime as well, but he is currently being held in the ship's infirmary."

Brady appeared to be more annoyed by the man's absence than concerned with his well-being. "The infirmary?" he asked.

"He had an… accident," Beyla explained. Her eyes slid to meet Inara's.

"He's not needed at his point, Lieutenant," Kain said. "We're just trying to show that we have enough evidence to press charges and force extradition to the Core."

"Very well," Brady said. "On with it."

The preliminaries didn't take long; Kain established Inara's identity and had her take the standard oath of truthfulness. Then he began with the questions. It went smoothly; he had worked with Inara earlier and she was ready for each question. He quickly established her profession and the timing of her visit to the Skuld cartel.

"And while you were there," he asked, "did you have occasion to discuss cartel business matters with Peter Skuld?"

"Yes, I did. Nothing detailed."

"Did you discuss mining operations in the Niflheim system?"

"Yes."

"What did he tell you?"

"That there was a new mining and prefabrication scheme in use by the Verdande cartel, and that it was frustrating not to have the legal rights to use it. As I understand it, this is common knowledge."

"Did you hear anything that isn't common knowledge?"

Inara cleared her throat, then held her chin up defiantly. "I heard Beyla Skuld talking about a woman named Ginger."

Inara heard the old woman take a sharp intake of breath, but she didn't look toward the table where Beyla sat.

"What did Beyla Skuld say about Ginger?"

"That she'd found a ship, and should be getting the harvester in the next few hours. Also, that Peter would need to be secretive about getting the harvester to her engineers in the core."

Kain continued without pause. "And what did you find when you returned to the Firefly?"

Inara cleared her throat. "There were hijackers holding the ship. One was named Ginger."

"The others?"

"There was a man named Will. He was waiting for me when I docked and he… he tried to subdue me by force." Inara didn't go into more detail; she didn't want to revisit that scene, not now.

"You're the one who beat him unconscious?" Brady asked.

Inara saw the look of disbelief on the Lieutenant's face. "I'm a Companion," she replied. "I'm trained to handle violence of that sort." She was tempted to stare down Brady's doubt, but she let it go. It was best to get this done as quickly and simply as possible.

"The other man?" Kain asked.

"His name was Ray. He threatened me, held me at gunpoint. That was why we had to flee from the Alliance battleship, and that's why the captain shot him."

Kain turned to Brady. "Lieutenant, do I really need to continue? Surely you see what happened here. You have the evidence of the undercover Alliance agents, records of the calls made by Ginger Larkin to the Skuld platform before and during the hijacking, and now you have testimony from an independent party. A Registered Companion, no less."

Brady nodded, then he sighed, as if steeling himself to take a big step. "It would appear that I have no choice. Beyla Skuld; you and your nephew Peter are under arrest. Agent Kain will prepare a full list of charges before we leave to transport you to Londinium for a full trial."

Brady nodded at two guards in the back of the room, who came forward to stand behind Beyla. Inara sat still, her spine stiff and straight, as Beyla was pulled to her feet. But the woman wasn't ready to leave peacefully.

"You foolish whore," she hissed at Inara. "You don't know what you've done. I needed that harvester, as proof!"

One of the guards grabbed the old woman's arms, and put hard metal cuffs over her frail wrists. Beyla didn't struggle, but she looked from Inara to Brady with venom in her eyes.

"It's his fault," she spat. "The whole world is dead because of Edward Verdande!"

Inara took in a sharp breath and looked up; the woman was vehement – she truly believed her words. The guards began to lead her out of the room, but Beyla had time to finish what she wanted to say. "The chemicals used in the harvester, the by-products, they killed this world!"

Then Beyla was gone, and Inara sat in the suddenly silent room. Agent Kain took her arm and gently pulled her to her feet, then led her away.

The two agents escorted Inara back to her cell. They reached the room, and Inara went inside, but Alvarez paused at the door to have a quiet word with Kain. The man departed, heading back in the direction from which they'd come.

"Thank you, Miss Serra," Alvarez said as she sat at the small table in the center of the cell. "We've recorded your testimony. A transcript is being drawn up, formalizing what you just told Lieutenant Brady. Agent Kain should return with it in a moment, and once you sign it, you're free to go."

"What about the rest of our agreement?" Inara asked.

"Everyone on the ship _Serenity_ and the stolen Skuld transport has been pardoned for any action they've taken in the past two days." She smiled and her eyes actually twinkled as she added, "I can't make any promises regarding anything further in the past than that."

Inara didn't share the woman's amusement. "And?"

"The Firefly will be allowed to refuel at the Verdande platform – "

"At…" Inara prompted.

" – at uninflated Core fuel prices. I can't control what you'll pay for stocking up on other supplies."

"That's fine. The other thing?"

"We'll be leaving the system in two days."

"That will suffice," Inara said. That was the whole of the agreement, but Inara wasn't done.

"What about the accusation Beyla Skuld made?" Inara asked. "Is that of any concern to you?"

Alvarez took her time pondering the question. Now that the woman wasn't focused on manipulating Inara, her manner had completely changed, her face softened and her bearing relaxed. She gave Inara a measuring look, but it wasn't hostile. It was almost respectful, as if appreciating a worthy opponent. Then she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

"Miss Serra, this battleship came to Niflheim because we believed, based on reports sent to us by undercover officers, that the supply of a product needed by Alliance peace-keeping forces was in danger due to cartel in-fighting. As it turned out, those reports were true. Now the threat has been eliminated. We've done the job we came to do, and the Alliance is safer and more stable because of it.

"The matter which was raised by Beyla Skuld is tragic, but…"

The woman paused, looking doubtful, and she studied Inara again. When she continued speaking, she didn't sound at all like the pre-programmed government official she'd been the night before. She sounded like a human being. A person with a lot of work to do.

"You've been helpful. If you want to continue to be helpful, it would be best for you to let this matter rest."

Inara didn't back down. "What about holding Verdande accountable for what he's done to an entire world and its inhabitants? What about trying to stop or even reverse the damage?"

Alvarez shifted uncomfortably, but her eyes settled on Inara, and there was determination in her look. "Miss Serra, we have a deal and I will honor it. But – as I told you before – your crew has only been pardoned for crimes committed in the past two days. Need I go on?"

Inara considered bluffing. She could play the snobbish high-class Companion, tell the woman that she didn't care for the crew of _Serenity_ and that sending them off to jail wouldn't bother her a bit. But the confidence on Alvarez's face showed that Inara had already tipped her hand.

She was tired. In the past few days she'd resorted to every skill she had, and used them in situations she hadn't even imagined while she was training at the House. She was worn down to the bone, and this agent had read her easily. Inara wouldn't be winning any more battles; it was time to stop. She dropped her eyes in defeat, and sat quietly until Kain returned with the forms for her to sign. A few minutes later, she picked up her bag and followed the two agents out, wondering if she might really be on her way to peace and rest in the quiet comfort of her shuttle. Finally.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
zaōgaō: damn it  
gōushī: crap

* * *

Chapter 21.

Kaylee woke up bit by bit, but there was no fuzzy period of forgetfulness. She had no confusion about where she was, and remembered everything that had come before she took her rest in Inara's shuttle. She figured from the heaviness of her arms and legs and the dryness of her mouth that she'd slept long and hard, but it hadn't given her any distance from the hijacking, or from the way it had ended.

She heard the little sounds of another person in the room and was glad to know that Inara was still with her, but she didn't want to get up yet. She was still for a while, hoping to fall asleep again. Then it occurred to her that making herself busy might be the best way to quiet her thoughts, especially since sleep didn't look to be coming. There was a shuttle that needed fixing; that would do for a start.

She rolled over, and was a little startled that it wasn't Inara sitting across the room from her; it was Simon.

"Oh – " she stammered, realizing that, under the covers, she was wearing very little. It wasn't Kaylee's way to be shy, but she didn't want Simon looking at her. Not right now. She didn't think real hard about why; she just pulled the covers up to her nose.

"Good morning," Simon said softly. "How are you feeling?"

She pulled the blanket down enough to reply. "I… I'm okay." Her throat was scratchy. She coughed a little, then asked in a still croaky voice, "Is it really mornin'?

"It's moving toward afternoon," he said with a smile. "But I guess the time of day is a little off for all of us."

Kaylee was a little surprised when he stood up and left the room, but he came back a minute later with a glass full of water. She worked one arm out from under the sheets to accept it, but kept the rest of herself hidden. She felt like she must be dirty. She tried to think back on everything her body had been through since she last had lazy free time for washing up. There'd been unintentional drunkenness with Jayne, finding and fixing the new mule, driving around in the desert, then being held hostage on her own ship. Days of grime were built up all over her, and she wanted nothing more than to get to the shower and scrub it off.

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed, but Kaylee wished he'd stay further away. She didn't want him close to her now; he looked so neat and clean. So civilized.

"We still docked with the Alliance?" she asked.

"Yes, we are."

"Where'd Inara go? Not that I ain't… not that I ain't happy you're here…." She stopped when she saw how Simon shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his hands. His reluctance to speak made her worry. She sat up, still holding the blanket tightly over her chest.

"What is it, Simon? You gotta tell me."

He looked up at her. "The Alliance took Inara. She's been gone for nearly half a day, and they haven't told us anything."

"They took her? But… but Inara's a Companion. They can't just take her!"

He shrugged, looking helpless. "I guess they can, because they did."

"But they won't do nothin' to her, right?"

"Of course they won't," he said, but she could tell he didn't believe it. He must have noticed the way she looked at him, because he shook his head. "I don't know, Kaylee. The way people act out here… it never makes sense. There's no rules, no guidelines. People never do what they're supposed to do."

Kaylee laid back down, letting her head rest on the pillow. No, people sure didn't act like they were supposed to. She hadn't. The thought made her look away from Simon.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "This isn't helping. I shouldn't be so negative –"

"S'okay. You don't gotta be all careful round me. You can say what you need." She roused herself and shifted, sliding back so she could sit up against the wall behind the bed, still carefully clutching the sheet. She swallowed down her own worries; she'd meant to be a help to Simon, but here he was, trying so hard to comfort someone else again. Trying to comfort her.

"I meant to come back," she said softly. "I saw how bad they hurt you, and I was gonna come back to the infirmary and help. But I… I guess I forgot."

He smiled. "Don't worry. I managed all right by myself."

Kaylee's frustration came back, fresh and stinging, as she recalled what she'd felt when she'd seen Simon through the infirmary window. "You shouldn't'a had to! I don't understand it, Simon. You were helpin' them. You're a doctor, not a gunhand like Jayne. You don't hurt people, you fix them. Why would they beat on you when you were just tryin' to save one of em?"

Simon looked surprised at her sudden tirade, but then he smiled sheepishly. "Actually, I feel more than a little foolish. I walked right into this." He raised a hand to the bruise high on his cheek. "River was trying to warn me, but… I just wanted to get to Book, and I paid no attention to her."

"That ain't all, Simon. I seen what they done to you." Her eyes drifted down to his torso, and she reached out a hand toward his side. But he looked all proper now, his fancy vest fitting neat and snug around him, and her arm dropped before she touched him. "That wasn't just knockin' into you once," she said. "What I saw wouldn't a' happened unless someone was out to hurt you."

He scratched the back of his head and shrugged awkwardly. "Actually, that followed another move of mine that, maybe, wasn't entirely míng zhì."

Kaylee just stared at him until he explained.

"I… kind of tried to fight one of them. I attacked him." He took a deep breath and continued with the air of a man giving a full confession. "I jumped an armed man. There was no artificial gravity and I was hardly able to move, but I did it anyway." He shook his head. "In retrospect, it wasn't very bright, and didn't accomplish much. Well… except that I broke his nose. That was… oddly satisfying."

Kaylee stared at him open-mouthed. She'd meant to ask why he'd done such a fool thing, but she got side-tracked by that last tidbit. "Hú chĕ! _You_ broke Will's nose?"

Simon's sheepish smile held a little pride, but then he shook out his right hand, making a pained face as he flexed his fingers. "It's not something I'd like to do again."

"I guess we did our part then, huh?" Kaylee said. "You broke a nose, and I…"

She couldn't finish, and there was an awkward moment. Then Simon broke it, speaking with forced cheerfulness. "There's good news," he said. "Zoë, Wash and Jayne are back."

Kaylee looked up hopefully, but then she felt a little worry sneak in. It seemed too much to suppose that anyone had got through this without hurts. "They all right?" she asked.

"Perfectly fine. They showed up this morning. They, um…" His face lit in a smile. "They brought your mule back."

Simon was so sweet, comforting her like that, with something he knew was important to her. She tried to encourage him by returning a smile. "I guess I ought'a go see that they didn't break it, huh?"

"If you're ready to get up. There's no rush. You should… you should take it easy, after…" He looked down at the floor, hunching a little bit like he was nervous. "Kaylee, if you need anything, anything at all…"

Truthfully, she had no idea what she needed, but the offer meant more than she could say. She reached out to touch his arm, and he looked up and took her hand in his own. Gently, he worked her fingers, his adept touch releasing the tension in her joints. And then she realized that this could be it – this could be her moment with Simon. Finally. She looked up and met his eyes. He was right here, so close, and for once he wasn't saying anything to ruin it. He smiled a little as he lifted a hand to her hair.

Before he could touch her, Kaylee pulled her hand out of his. "I… I need a shower," she said, "fore I do anythin' else. I just… I need to get clean." She dropped her head and couldn't look up again; she didn't want to see his face.

His reply was soft. "Of course," he said, but he didn't get up, just sat on the edge of the bed like he had more to say. Not now, Kaylee thought. I can't do this now.

"Um… you see my clothes anywhere?" she asked.

"Oh," Simon said. He looked at her arm which held the sheet across her chest, and his eyes widened. "Oh!" He stood up suddenly and looked around. Her clothes were neatly folded in pile on the table, and he got them and set them on the bed. "You just… get dressed," he stammered. "I'll wait outside."

Kaylee watched him leave, but she didn't change right away. She couldn't help wondering what would have happened if she'd taken the chance, just leaned forward to kiss him. How would Simon react to her doing something like that?

She regretted not trying, but this wasn't the time. Not with her feeling as nasty as she did. Inside and out.

.*. .*. .*.

Jayne woke up with an empty beer growler still wedged under his arm. He'd finished off the little bit left in this bottle, but he hadn't touched the other one. For some reason, his heart hadn't been in his drinking. Must'a just needed the sleep more.

And now he needed something else. His mouth and body were ripe enough that even he smelled it. Jayne was a standalone kind of guy, and the opinions of others never did weigh on him much. Still, that crazy old Chinese lady had called him stinky. He'd never let anyone know it, but that'd hurt his feelings. It was one thing when a guy like Wash let his mouth run off about Jayne's hygiene, but it was different when a woman said something, even if it'd been some ditty old bat talking. And worse - she'd said it right in front of Kaylee.

He got up and dug through the mess in the corner of his bunk to find a towel, then headed to the shower room just below the bridge. The scrap of soap sitting in the stall, along with a lot of scrubbing, did the work just fine. Before too long, Jayne was stepping out of the shower room, glowing shiny clean pink and holding a towel around his waist. He shut the hatch behind himself and turned around to run smack into Kaylee.

"Whoa – watch it there, li'l Kaylee."

"Oh, sorry, Jayne. Guess I wasn't watchin' where I was goin'." She sounded all tired out, and didn't hardly look at him. That wasn't like the Kaylee he knew. He expected her to at least take a glance, if only to make some crack about him walking around near naked.

"You ought'a be more careful," he jibed, "I could be some half-crazed hijacker lookin' for trouble."

Jayne grinned, but Kaylee didn't seem to think that was funny. Not at all. She stepped away from him, her head down and eyes on the floor.

"Yeah, I guess I should be careful…" she said softly. "I just... I was thinkin'. Busy thinkin'." Then she just stood there, and Jayne wiggled his toes awkwardly against the metal deck, not at all sure what to say.

Finally, Kaylee pointed at the door behind Jayne. "You mind if I… ?"

"Oh." He realized she was holding her shower things, and he stepped aside. But he watched Kaylee as she went by; she wasn't at all like she ought to be. It was like someone had turned her light out.

"Hey, Kaylee," he said, and she turned back to him. "You know, I got some a'that beer left. If you wanted some… maybe, like… to help you unwind a bit. Cause bein' a hostage can't be all that much fun. I guess."

Her mouth curved in a small smile, but she still didn't look happy. "No thanks, Jayne. I'm just fine."

Jayne watched her go into the still steamy room, then he turned toward his bunk, shaking his head.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal started out of his sleep at a touch on his arm. He woke up easier than he had last time, but he still had a bad spell while the remnants of troublesome dreams danced through his head. He sat up and waited for the bleariness to pass.

When he was able to think straight, he looked up at Zoë. He didn't have to ask any questions. "She's back," was all Zoë said.

They found Inara in the dining room. The rest of the crew, minus their two guests, were gathered around the table, eagerly awaiting the Companion's story. Inara herself looked tired and dull, and she started speaking as soon as Mal and Zoë entered.

"We can go," she said. "There are no charges against any of us."

Mal stopped just inside the doorway. "But… how…"

Inara explained, but she spoke slowly, without her usual liveliness of manner. "My client and his aunt were behind the hijacking of _Serenity_. I overheard some things they said while I was on the platform, and I gave evidence against them. You'll be allowed to refuel at the planetside Verdande compound, and they promised a decent price. It's all here." She set down a sheet of paper on the table, then paused, looking around at the crew, as if trying to remember if there was more to say. Evidently, that was all, because she stood up and faced Mal. "Do you mind if I give you the details later? I'm… very tired."

"Sure, go on and get your rest," Mal said. Inara turned and left without even a nod of acknowledgement.

"Well, then," Wash said. He looked up at Mal and waved his thumb toward the bridge. "Captain, may I?"

"I'd be happy if you would," Mal replied, and Wash got up and departed through the fore hatch, clearly eager to get them away from the Alliance ship.

Mal rubbed his eyes. This was too much information passing too quickly. "We got any morning-type beverages?" he asked.

"Hot water for tea on the stove," Book answered, and Mal went about fixing himself a mug. He surreptitiously checked on his crew from the galley: Zoë and Jayne seemed fine; Jayne actually looked cleaner than he had in a good long time. Book seemed hardly the worse for wear – he was entertaining the crew with tales of the things that had occupied his thoughts during his under-the-table time. River was her distracted self, dividing her time between staring off into space and casting sharp, worried looks at Simon and Kaylee.

The doctor was looking toward Kaylee, but not directly at her. Kaylee didn't speak up either. She sat back from the table, occasionally nodding at the conversation, but she didn't join in. Eventually, she pushed back her chair and left, saying she wanted to get started fixing up the torn up wiring in Shuttle Two.

"Doc," Mal said as he came out of the galley with his tea in hand.

"Yes, Captain?"

"How's your patient?"

"He's doing well. There's no sign of infection. He woke up for a little while this morning; I think I'll be able to move him to a dorm room soon."

Mal sighed. Moved to a dorm room? That implied a bit of a long stay. All he needed was more wayward babes on his boat.

"How 'bout our other guest?"

"He has a room already, but he's been sitting outside the infirmary all morning."

Mal sighed. "I'd best go deal with him, now that I'm able to talk sense. Zoë."

She nodded and got up to follow him out of the room.

They found Bucky where Simon said he'd be: sitting outside the infirmary. He was dozing, his head tipped back against the chair he was sprawled on. Mal stopped and took a moment to gather himself. He didn't know much about these people, except that there was a father who hadn't seen his son in a spell, and a son who, clearly lacking guidance, had gotten himself involved in some hardcore crime. Mal wasn't inclined to look too kindly on Bucky.

"Mal," Zoë's voice was a soft whisper. He looked back at her.

"I ain't sayin' I've gone all angel of mercy, but take it easy on the man, all right?" Mal gave her a questioning look. "He had nothin' to do with what happened here. He just wants to help the boy. And when we first talked to him, he said he thought the kid was dead."

Mal looked at Bucky again; that would explain it, if it was true. Mal went to take a seat next to the napping man, then awkwardly tapped him on the elbow to rouse him.

"Hey. Uh… Bucky?"

Bucky looked up, startled. He shook himself awake and looked into the infirmary, checking on the boy before his gaze settled on Mal.

"How's he doin'?" Mal asked.

Bucky wiped his eyes. "He woke a bit this mornin', but didn't have a lot to say."

"Did you tell him about Ray?"

The man gave Mal a tired look. "I did."

"How'd he take it?"

Bucky shook his head. "Didn't say a gorram word."

Mal sat back and waited while Bucky took some time to wake up fully. He watched the man, not quite convinced. Any bum in the 'verse could father a child, but that didn't make him worthy of being a dad.

"How long's it been since you seen him?" Mal asked.

Bucky took a moment to think, like he was calculating. "It's been… it's been more than nine years. Been seven since Ray came and told me he was dead." Bucky shook his head. "Gorramn, I can't believe he's sixteen. I thought he died at nine."

Mal nodded to himself. Made sense, then, that Bucky wasn't torn up about his brother's death. Not a lot of love in that family.

Bucky looked into the infirmary again. "He's not the same as the boy I knew. I'm not even sure if he remembers me. When he woke up, he just looked at me, all blank, like he didn't even care who I was."

Mal glanced at Zoë, and something behind her caught his eye. A small body was all balled up on the stairs over the infirmary. River was staring down at them, her eyes fastened intently on Bucky. Mal found himself hoping that Bucky didn't notice; a look like that could make a full-grown man fear the wrath of skinny teenaged girls

"Captain, I want to ask you for somethin'," Bucky said slowly, and Mal pulled his attention back to the conversation. "I can't say as you owe me much, seein' how much trouble all this has been to ya. But I can't take Jase to the compound. If there's any spirit left in him, it'll get killed by livin' in that place."

Mal glanced up at Zoë, and he saw confirmation in her eyes. "You got somewhere else in mind?" he asked.

"There's a planet near here. It's not a high tech place; it's mostly wild and empty. But there's a colony of folk there that got moved off Niflheim. Some of 'em are relations of Jase's mom. I think they'll take us in. Planet's called New Borjomi."

"I know the place," Mal replied. "We took our ease there for a few days."

"It would help if I could get back to my flat in the compound on Niflheim. I got all my worldly goods, and there's a few things that may fetch some money. I'll pay what I can for the ride. And for what you've done to help him."

Zoë spoke up before Mal could even think on it. "It ain't a problem," she said. "Wash and I can take you over in the shuttle while _Serenity_'s fueling up." She folded her arms and glared at Mal like she was daring him to challenge her offer, but Mal just nodded.

"You may have to wait a bit," Mal said. "Shuttle Two's been tore up, and I don't want to push Kaylee. You can go when she says it's ready. As for going back to New Borjomi – that's just fine by me. I wouldn't mind stockin' up on foodstuffs again. It's better than paying the prices they charge here." He stood up and turned to look down at the man. "Sides, you did help Zoë here get to that transport; I appreciate that. You keep your money. You'll be needin' it."

Zoë was pleased at how Mal'd treated Bucky. Truthfully, she hadn't expected him to go so soft on the man. But she wasn't at ease with how he'd left the whole situation, and wanted to have a few words.

She caught up with Mal in the cargo bay.

"Captain?"

He stopped a few steps up the stairway, his hand on the railing. "Yeah, Zoë?"

"It wouldn't be a bad thing to get out of this system on the soon side. Alliance has been known to change their mind out of nothing more than but bein' ornery."

"You got an idea to hurry us on our way?"

"We could take Inara's shuttle down for Bucky's stuff. I'm sure she'd – "

Mal interrupted, his voice firm. "No. Let her have her peace. She needs it."

He started to continue on his way, but Zoë couldn't leave it alone. She needed to get to the bottom of this. "Sometime, Captain, you should explain what's got everyone on this boat so spooked." She had a specific idea of who she meant when she said _everyone_, but it hadn't been doing much good to ask Mal about himself directly. His worry about Inara seemed a good place to get him started with the talking.

Mal stopped a few steps up the staircase and gave her a long, measuring look. Then he turned all the way back. "Hell, Zoë. We're just on edge after all that's happened. Don't mean nothin'."

"Then why you so eager to give Inara all this alone time?"

Mal looked annoyed, but instead of snapping at her to mind her own business, he sighed and sat down on the stairs. His face crinkled, like he was digging up something inside himself that wasn't easy to get to.

"I got this…" He paused and gave Zoë a sidelong look, like he felt silly about what he was saying. "Look – I got this feeling. I can't explain it, but I think something happened to her. Something besides the stuff on this boat. It's hard to tell with her being so good at doing the 'everything's fine' act. But… I think she's hiding somethin'."

Zoë didn't question his instincts; she'd been with Mal a lot of years, and sometimes it seemed like she had a better feel about his hunches than he did.

"You asked her bout it?"

"I did. Before the Alliance took her. She don't want to talk."

Zoë leaned against the railing next to him. "Sir," she said, then, "Mal." In conversations like these, which didn't happen often, it was hard to know what to call the captain. It was hard to classify what their relationship was. But she had something to say, so she plowed on ahead. "You and I both know what it's like to be troubled, and we've both pushed other folks away so they won't see it. It don't work. I know it, and you do too."

"You're sayin' I should try talkin' to her again?"

Zoë wasn't ready to commit to that. "I can't tell you what to do. You have to go about things your own way. I'm just sayin'… think on it."

Mal sat quiet for a spell, then he gave Zoë a look like he was about to tread new ground, but he wasn't at all sure if it was safe. It took him a few false starts before he finally said what was on his mind.

"Zoë… I know you didn't think much of Wash when you met him, and I sure didn't think much of you two gettin' hitched. But, I gotta say, you never used to smile so much as you have since then."

Zoë couldn't help staring at him, completely befuddled as to what he was talking about. "You sure the doc checked that bump on your head?" she asked.

Mal grinned. "He tried. But whatever got knocked loose, there's no way he can fix it. You'll just have to put up with me."

She stepped around the railing and climbed up to sit on the stairs next to him. "All right, sir. What the hell are you talkin' about?"

He stared down at his knees, looking like he was a little embarrassed.

"I just been wonderin'… How'd you do it? After everything… after the war and now, livin' out here like we do… how did you ever, you know… "

_Open up?_ Zoë thought. _Let him in?_

Mal went for an easier question. "How'd you and Wash get past that whole not-liking-each-other thing?"

He didn't have to explain more; Zoë knew what he was asking. She remembered those early days with Wash, remembered the difficulty, the almost physical discomfort of making herself relax around the new pilot. Even after she knew there was something about him, and about the two of them together, it hadn't been a simple thing to give in to it. She'd held a shield around herself for so long that it had nearly become part of her. Setting it aside hadn't been an easy thing, and it still came up from time to time.

For example – events in that stolen transport, the ruckus Wash had made about that spacesuit. They still hadn't made peace about that, just set it aside until the danger was passed. They'd have to work it out sometime. Soon.

Zoë sighed. It was tough to be both soldier and wife. If she was reading this right, Mal was facing a similar thing: how to be a captain and a lover to someone on his ship. This wasn't an issue she'd ever discussed with him, but if he was ready to quit being alone and move on in life the way she had, she'd certainly do all she could to help him. It sure as hell was time for him and Inara to work this thing out and quit putting the whole crew on edge with their fighting.

"I had to make up my mind that I wanted him," she finally said. "And I had to give up bein' safe."

"Safe?"

"Sometimes you have to take the risk of puttin' someone else first. Set aside your own worries. Even the feeling that nothin' you got will be enough. Just being able to do that… I think just makin' that effort means more than anything else."

She waited for a reply, but there wasn't one coming. Mal just sat staring at something far away. Zoë didn't push him; the captain appeared to have some new thoughts working their way into his mind, thoughts that might do him good.

Eventually, Zoë stood up to take her leave. Mal hardly seemed to notice.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
míng zhì: wise  
hú chĕ: get out


	8. Part 8 of 9

**Easy Tickets: Part 8/9 (Chapters 22-24)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

OK, I had to change the rating of the whole fic because it's easier than rewriting  
or cutting things out. Yes, there's sex in this part. (And cheesiness and fluff – hey,  
it's been a long dark fic, I've earned my break LOL!) It's not meant to be porn.  
Necessary words are said. Necessary actions are taken. I just can't find a way to  
cut it down to shiny cleanliness! Hope that's okay.

* * *

Chapter 22.

Although River had a way of moving silently, Book was aware of her entering the dining room. She crept up to the island in the galley, then stuck her nose around the far side of it to watch him. For a time, he let her keep to herself, and he continued with his business of fixing up a late lunch for the crew. She stayed where she was, but after a while started tapping a toe impatiently. Book figured that the girl was up to something, and it'd be best to get it out in the open.

"You could help, since you're here," he commented without looking up.

"Cooking's not what I do," she replied, sounding like that should have been obvious.

He smiled. "No, I guess not. You're very good at spectating, though, aren't you?"

She didn't answer, but leaned further around the island so he could see her whole face.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked.

"Why do bad things happen?" she asked, her tone matter-of-fact. Book paused in his cooking so he could study her face.

"What kind of bad things?"

"Everything dies, turns ugly. Bad people take happiness away. Good people lose out. Not fair. Weren't asking for it. Didn't deserve it. Why?"

Book set down the spoon he'd been stirring with. This girl never did ask easy questions. "River, sometimes there's no reason behind the things that happen to us. And even if there is, it does no good to go about looking to place blame."

Her voice was forceful. "But there must a way to make sure it doesn't happen anymore. It's not right."

"I wish that was the way of it," Book said sadly. "But there always will be grief, no matter how we try to prevent it."

"But why?"

Her eyes glistened wetly as they held his. Whatever she was really asking about, and he had no doubt that it was something specific, her feelings were strong. Book sighed. How does one explain the existence of pain to a young person? He wiped his hands on a towel, then came around into the dining room and slid a chair over next to her.

"Sometimes there is no 'why.' It's the reality of the 'verse we live in; no matter how we try to prevent it, bad things happen. We must do what we can with what is given to us, and when there is hardship, persevere." She frowned, she clearly didn't like that answer. "River – there is pain in life. But don't let that blind you to the things that are beautiful. Those are, by far, more powerful than any evil."

Book waited for her to speak, hoping that something he'd said would reach her and provide comfort. Her reaction was not what he expected, and a shiver went up his spine as she recited the words that were even now running through his head:

_A time to kill, and a time to heal;  
__A time to break down, and a time to build up;  
__A time to weep, and a time to laugh;  
__A time to mourn, and a time to dance… _

She finished, looking at him as if awaiting confirmation.

"Yes," Book said, trying to push aside his uneasiness at her eerie abilites. He should be getting used to them by now. "To be at peace with yourself and this life, you must accept these things and do the best you can with each of them."

"But… what if someone can't accept?"

"What do you mean?"

"Couldn't take the pain. Built walls. I've seen them. Walls trap the hurt deep down where it can't be seen. Is that… Is that all right? Is it safe?"

"Sometimes people need to do that," Book explained. "We need to able to separate ourselves from what hurts us, when it's too painful to bear."

"What if the bad things get trapped there, inside? What if the walls never open?"

Book cast about for an answer; River had a special aptitude for trying the limits of his beliefs and knowledge, but the worry in her eyes showed that this wasn't just idle curiousity. He needed to do better than some dry scholarly explanation.

"When pain gets buried and left too long," he said, "it can be like an infection. It festers. It can start to affect everything about the person, twisting them and making them change for the worse. That's one reason we need other people around us, friends and family whom we love. They talk to us – bring the dark places to light and help us heal. Even if it's difficult or painful, sometimes it must be done."

River's eyes focused in on herself, like she was making a decision. "So it needs to be opened up," she said.

"When the time is right." Book said. He studied her; it was a danger, giving advice on a matter this weighty without knowing the details. "Are you talking about someone in particular?" he asked.

"Many people," River replied distantly. She looked like she might have said more, but then she was distracted, and turned toward at the hatch behind her. A second later, Kaylee appeared.

"Hey, Shepherd," the mechanic said, "how's lunch comin'?"

"Almost finished," he replied with a gentle smile. "How are you doing?"

"Shuttle's all fixed," she said cheerfully. Book wasn't sure if she had deliberately mistaken his meaning, choosing to deflect the question away from herself. River smoothly stepped over to take a seat next to Book, and leaned toward him.

"Infection," she whispered. "Not festering, but it will." Then she sat back in the chair, looking at him with her face set in know-it-all conviction.

Kaylee spoke before Book could reply to River. "We'll be missin' some folks for lunch," she said. "Zoë and Wash took the new guy out to get his stuff, and the captain'll be busy gettin' refueled."

Book got up with a nod and returned to the galley, thinking hard on River's words. He could easily believe that she was right about Kaylee, but the mechanic continued on like she hadn't a care in the world. "Hey, River. Ain't seen you much since… well, you know." Kaylee shrugged and sat at the table. "I heard you did some playin' in the engine room."

"Didn't break anything!" River protested.

"I know. I didn't mean that. You did real good. You kept the bad guys away from the captain without having to..." Book watched as Kaylee groped for words, then she just smiled and continued. "It was real smart how you did it. You handled yourself well."

River turned to glance at Book, one brow arched as if to say _See?_ Then she turned toward the hatch again, just as Simon came in.

"Where is he?" River demanded.

"Who?" Simon replied.

River tipped her head, as if Simon was a dope for not knowing who she meant. "Jase. Coming to lunch?"

"Oh. I don't…. I don't think so," Simon said. "He's recovering quickly, but I don't think he's ready. I helped him get cleaned up and took him breakfast, and he's in his own cabin now. He really needs rest more than anything."

Book watched as Simon sat down at the table, and he saw how the doctor's eyes were repeatedly drawn toward Kaylee. Simon took care of all his patients, but, in this case, one in particular was occupying him. Book smiled as he took a large bowl of stewed protein to the table.

The only other addition for lunch was Jayne. The mercenary kept to himself, just shoveled food into his mouth. The conversation was light. It seemed the food and chatter weren't enough to entertain River, and she slipped away from the table before long.

.*. .*. .*.

River wandered into the passenger dorm, moving slowly. She felt oddly timid. But she knew where she needed to go; she felt a trickle of familiar images coming from one of the rooms. They drew her forward despite her nerves.

She grabbed the ladder in front of Simon's room in one hand and leaned through his door to be sure it was empty, although she knew Simon was still up in the dining room, having lunch with the others. Then she pulled herself back and stepped onto the bottom rung. Two more steps up, then she was high enough to peek in the barely open door of the room above Simon's.

It was empty of everything but the bed, which Jase was sitting on crosswise with his back against the wall. He was dressed in a dark blue button-down shirt borrowed from Simon, which was too big and looked all wrong with his torn and faded jeans and bare feet. His left arm was folded against his body in a sling, and he looked all cleaned up, his face free of dirt and hair damp from washing. He wasn't doing anything, just staring blankly at the space in front of him.

River made a note to let Simon have it for putting Jase in an upstairs room. Her brother must be very preoccupied to do something so careless – it wouldn't be easy for Jase to come and go. But she'd do that later, she had another task now.

She reached out and pushed the door open a bit more. Jase looked up at the sound.

"Oh – hi," he said when he saw her face low in the doorway, and he started to get up.

"No. Sit!" River snapped.

He blinked at her sharp tone, surprised by the order, but he slid back to lean against the wall again.

"You missed lunch," River told him, as if he didn't know.

"I wasn't sure…" He looked down at his lap. "I mean, no one came by and I dunno if I'm allowed to just walk round…"

"Why wouldn't you be allowed?"

He looked at her with the faintest hint of a frown, like he was wondering if she was making fun of him.

"I tried to shoot your captain."

"Lots of people do. He used to it."

He couldn't hold back a small smile at her answer, and she liked how it lightened his face. She climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and slid through the open door into his room. His smile faded as he watched her; he was good at blanking his expression. She'd never have been able to tell what he was thinking just by looking at him.

"We goin' back to Niflheim?" he asked.

River stayed by the door, trying out her nails between her teeth to see which would be best to chew. "We're there now." She thought about it. "I mean, here now. I mean…"

He didn't notice her confusion, just looked down at the bed beside him, his right hand plucking at the cover. "I'm goin' off with some security folks, right?" He asked it like he didn't really care. "Gettin' locked up or somethin'?"

She dropped her hand from her mouth, deciding she didn't actually want a nail to chew on. "No. Going with Bucky." She chewed her bottom lip instead.

He didn't answer, didn't move a muscle, but River felt his relief. It was so overpowering that she had to grip the doorway to hold herself up until the brunt of it passed. When she looked at him again, he still hadn't moved. She took a few steps into the room, staying close to the wall, continuing until she was standing straight across from him. By then, his relief had started to change over to doubt.

"You sure?" he asked. "You sure he wants me to go with him?"

"I'm sure. But that's not all. I need to tell you more about him."

"Look - I know that he's… I think that he's really my Pa," he said. "But he left me. A long time ago. There's no reason for him to come lookin' for me now."

"Didn't mean to leave – it was… it was a mistake." She continued chewing her lip for a second, thinking and gathering words. Her eyes wandered the room while she tried to piece it together. "You don't need to worry. I checked him out – looked close. Very close. There's a gap. He went away… for a while, no reason to stay. But didn't twist. Never broke. Some shadows, but walls are translucent." She scratched her forehead, wrinkling up her brow. It was so hard to explain things like this. "Mostly translucent," she continued. "Where it matters. Inside is strong, stable. Down deep."

Jase frowned at her.

She tried again. Simpler this time. "He's good. Safe."

He was still frowning. Of course, he wouldn't know to believe her. But it didn't matter if he did or not; he'd figure it out himself eventually. Besides, she knew that Bucky wasn't really what she was here for. That was just an excuse. Something to talk about.

She hesitated, then quickly, so she couldn't stop herself, stepped across the room and slid onto the bed. She sat against the wall next to him, on his right so she wouldn't bump his bad arm. He shifted, moving away from her.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

He glanced down at his shoulder, started to shrug but he stopped when it pained him. "A little."

He was looking down at his lap. River turned to face him, reaching out to almost touch the healing bruise on the corner of his mouth. "How's this?"

He pulled his face away. "Fine," he answered shortly.

River saw his memory, and it made her press her lips together angrily. He'd gotten that bruise because he'd listened to Kaylee. And because he'd spoken Chinese in front of Ray.

"Bucky won't do that," she said.

Jase looked up at her.

"Trust him," she said. "He'll take care of you. Make you grow up true. Eat, sleep, go to school, learn."

His look of disgust was clear, and it made her laugh. He could be expressive when he let himself.

"You shouldn't think that, it's fun. Science, math – how the verse works. Helps you understand lots of things. Beautiful things. Biology and chemistry and physics. And there's reading – literature and languages. History is bad, though. Too much spin. No right answers."

He looked down again, embarrassed that he didn't know some of those words. "You know a lot of stuff, huh?"

"I do." River looked at her hands for a second, his shyness rubbing off on her, then she decided that this was silly, being scared when she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Down deep he was, anyway.

"I know you want to do this," she said, and leaned toward him. He moved away, but couldn't get far with no healthy left arm to catch himself. She caught up, pushed back the hair that fell forward from behind his ear, and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"Oh," he said, staying still as she sat back down. "I don't… I hope you don't think…" He gave up trying to explain. His hair hung over his face again, but River could see he was blushing. Suddenly she felt embarrassed too, and her own mind clouded up with too much doubt to see through. What if she was wrong about him? Worse – what if she'd done it wrong?

Before she could talk herself into too much agony, he moved closer to her. This time his lips found hers, and stayed there. River closed her eyes and experimented, opening her mouth just a little, and he did too. She felt his warm breath, inhaled it and tasted a hint of the same toothpaste that she and Simon used. Then she felt the warm silky touch of his tongue on her bottom lip. She opened her mouth more, and let her tongue touch his.

It was slow and awkward and strange, and it made her dizzy. It was a good dizzy, and she let herself relax into it, bringing her hand up to his cheek. As soon as she touched him, he pulled back. Not far, just enough so he could talk.

"I… I ain't never done this," he said.

"Kissed?"

He nodded. "Am I doin' it right?"

She stroked his cheekbone with her thumb. "Perfect." She started to pull him close again, but paused with her forehead against his. "I mean, I think so."

"Think so?"

"First for me, too."

He smiled in relief. "Well, you're real good at it."

She smiled back. "I'm deeply intuitive."

"What's that mean?"

"I'm good at it."

"Mm-hmm."

The next kiss was less awkward, and his hand slid up her back. She moved her own hand down his cheek to his neck, feeling the shiver in his mind when her thumb stroked a certain spot just below his ear. She decided she needed to know more about that.

She pulled her mouth away from his, but trailed kisses along his jaw so he wouldn't think she wanted to stop. When she reached that place under his ear, he tipped his head aside and the shiver in his mind returned, this time running all through his body. She could read it so clear it made her own body shiver too.

River turned more toward him, shifting her legs so they lay bent across his lap, and she nestled into the space under his right arm. She took her time about finding all the other good places on his neck, and her hands tangled in his soft hair. When she was finished, she returned to his mouth for another kiss, and she thought they might both have a natural talent for this. They certainly were getting it down quickly.

After a bit, he did some neck exploring of his own. She thought she'd have to make a special effort to let him know where her shivery spots were, since he couldn't read her mind, but he figured it out. She happily quit thinking.

Through a pleasant haze, River became aware of Simon approaching.

"Āi yā!" she gasped, and pulled away from Jase. She hopped off the bed and took two light steps to the door. Quietly she slid it shut, but stayed there to listen. Book was at the base of the ladder, asking a question. Simon's reply was indistinct, his voice carrying up through the floor.

River exhaled in relief when they soon went away again. She left the door shut and went back to the bed, sitting in the middle of it facing Jase, her knees folded under her.

"Simon is such a pain," she said with a small eye roll. "So uptight. He'd be feng le about this."

She immediately regretted saying it, because Jase looked at her with eyes wide in shock. "You shouldn't talk bout him like that. He's a doctor. And if he don't want you in here with me, then – "

"It's all right," she told him, and picked up his right hand. "He's just my brother. It doesn't matter if he approves." She caressed his fingers, one by one, wondering if hands had shivery spots.

Apparently so. He was watching the movement of her fingers on his. It distracted him. "But…" he stammered, "he mended me."

She smiled brightly, letting her pride in Simon show. "Yes, he's a very good doctor. But I told you that already, remember?"

He looked up to her eyes. "That really was you? Flyin'?"

"Wasn't really flying. Grav was shut off."

"Grav?"

"Makes up be up. Kaylee told you about it, in the dockyard shop." She inched closer, leaned in, and kissed his cheek.

"Oh – right. I forgot." He turned his face away and she felt his doubt. He was self-conscious, and hesitant to kiss her again, as much as he'd liked it. He pulled his hand out of hers. "Guess I need schoolin'. I don't know much."

"You're very smart."

"No I ain't. Never have been."

She sat back on her heels. "Very smart!" she insisted impatiently. He didn't answer, and she saw that he really didn't understand.

"You were nine when she died, right?" She asked.

He looked up, his mouth open in disbelief. "Who?"

"Your Ma."

"How do you – "

"Never mind. Nine, right?"

"Yeah."

She looked down at his chest, and placed her hand over his heart. "Haven't been alive in here since then. Still nine."

He looked at her hand, then up at her face. He looked afraid, but all he said was, "You're kind'a weird."

"Not the point. Kept yourself safe. In here…" She pressed her palm firmly to his chest, then raised the hand to his forehead. "…and in here, in your mind. Locked away so you wouldn't get twisted up like the others. You're smart. Not stupid, just hiding."

She let her hand wander down the side of his face, studying the green eyes that stared into hers, trying to stay distant but starting to crack. She'd got through, just a little. "How d'you know?" he asked her in a whisper. "How d'you know bout it?"

She took his hand again and guided it to her own heart.

"In here," she said, barely above a whisper, "fourteen."

He spoke quiet too, like they were talking about something secret. "What happened?"

"People hurt me. Mean people. Couldn't hide my mind like you did. They got in. That's why I'm weird. I hid my heart, though."

"Why'd they hurt you?"

She still held his hand against her heart, stroking the back of it with her thumb as she thought.

"I don't know. Wanted to change me. Don't understand why." She looked up at Jase again. His eyes were shining, tears in them, tears for her. "But Simon got me away from them, and the captain protects me now. I'm getting better. You will too."

He studied her a bit longer, then looked at her hand over his. He smiled, then leaned forward to put his mouth by her ear. "You're not weird," he whispered.

His breath tickled her, gave her goosebumps. She pulled back enough to look in his eyes again. "Yes, I am. Don't have to pretend, I know." She smiled, to let him know it really was okay.

"Well, then, I like how you're weird."

That made her smile more, and she raised a hand to push his hair back behind his ear. "I like you too," she said, then she kissed him once, real small, just a soft peck like the first time. "You can come out now," she told him. "It's safe here."

She liked how his eyes got warmer when he smiled. He believed her – at least, he really wanted to. He bent over her neck, kissed right where neck changed to shoulder. That was a very good spot. Then she felt the warm hand over her heart slide to the side a bit and down.

"This okay?" he asked, his breath warming her skin.

She answered by pulling his mouth up to hers.

A while later, River was curled up in Jase's lap, resting her head against his good shoulder. She had one arm wrapped around his back, the other tracing small circles over the front of Simon's borrowed shirt. They were taking a break, just holding and thinking. River felt more awake than she had in a long, long time, in a boneless relaxed sort of way. She sensed echos of the same feeling in him, but there was still a part held away, far out of reach. Like the Shepherd had said, it was an infection, and it had to be cleaned out.

"Tell me about it," she said.

"What?"

"About your Ma, and the apple tree."

He didn't answer for a few seconds. Then, softy, "I get the feeling you know about all that already."

She smiled. "I want to hear it anyway. And everything that came after."

He was quiet for a while, then he asked, "How exactly do you know?"

She wasn't sure how to answer, and took her time thinking about it. But before she could explain, he asked, "You an angel?" Then he laughed uncomfortably, as if he hoped she wouldn't take him seriously. But she saw that in his mind he was serious, at least a little bit.

"Maybe I am."

He kissed her again, slow and patient, taking his time. His arm tightened around her waist, holding her close.

"You ain't like any angel Ma ever talked bout," he said after a time, his lips moving against hers.

She resisted the distraction. "Tell me about her."

He sighed, and tipped his head back against the wall. She didn't need to be a reader to understand his reluctance; he didn't want to go back to those times, to the nightmares that followed. He wanted to stay in the right now, in this moment that was the first he'd been really _in_ for nearly half his life.

"Please," she whispered. She wasn't going to let him keep this dark place of hurt trapped inside.

She waited, and eventually he started talking. He told her the story she already knew, told it with a quiet voice and a blank face, like it was just some overheard tall tale that had nothing to do with him. After a while, River let the words pass over her, closing her eyes and pressing an ear against his chest where his voice rumbled against the steady beat of his heart. In his mind, she could hear his Ma singing, could see the clear blue sky and brightly colored trees. Even while he told her about the dead brown years that followed the loss of his Ma and his home, about life in the city with Ray, she could see those precious days stored up in a safe place deep inside him.

When he finished, they sat still for a long time. He was afraid, nervous, while he waited for her to say something. It needed to be something good, she knew, something to let him know that he would be okay now. But she couldn't figure out what. She felt him start to worry, wondering if she was changing her mind about him, or if maybe she'd fallen asleep, not at all interested. _Why would she be interested? I shouldn't have said anything. Should have kept my mouth shut. No matter how nice she asked…_

She had to do something. She lifted her head to look at him, hoping the words would come, but her attention was caught by the pulse at the base of his throat. She had to pause to kiss him there.

"You have a pretty neck," she said after she was done.

She didn't think about it – the words just came out. If they surprised her, they caught him completely off guard. He gave a short embarrassed laugh. "I guess you really are weird."

"You do," she insisted, and looked at his face. "Eyes too."

He blushed and turned away from her scrutiny. "Stop it."

"Beautiful face. And hair." She combed her fingers through it. "Silky. Needs a trim, but so soft."

He was getting to be bright red. "I ain't kiddin', cut it out."

"You don't think so?"

He didn't look at her while he answered. "I ain't seen myself in a while. Not really, not like in a real mirror."

"Didn't have a mirror?"

He shook his head. "Ray had one for shavin', kept it with his stuff. He didn't like it when I got in his stuff."

She saw the images that came unbidden to his mind when he said that, and she felt his thoughts cower away from the memories. She put her hand on his cheek and turned his face back to her. "You'll be happy when you see. You're handsome."

He smiled, embarrassed, but still wouldn't meet her eyes. He started to say something, then stopped and said "Shut up" instead.

"You can say it the other way – _bì zuĭ_."

He finally looked at her, smile fading and eyes questioning, and she explained.

"Can speak it whenever you want now. Nothing wrong with a language. Nothing wrong with how you look. Nothing wrong with you. I see. I see what's inside, and it's good."

"You don't know what you're – "

"Don't have to hide. Never again. Think about your Ma and sing her songs whenever you want."

Telling her his story hadn't done it, but hearing that did. River felt him start to crumble and she pulled him close, letting him bury his face against her shoulder while he cried. Years of held back grief needed to come out. She couldn't fix it all, but this much she could do.

She let him cry for a while, then she pushed his head back from her shoulder so she could kiss the bad feelings away.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
āi yā: damn  
feng le: crazy  
bì zuǐ: shut your mouth

* * *

Chapter 23.

Kaylee turned away from the open panel when she heard River's light footsteps coming toward the engine room. The girl arrived with a hop; she was positively aglow. Kaylee was relieved to set down her wrench – her own thoughts were weighing heavily on her, no matter how she tried to focus on her work.

"What's goin' on?" she asked, smiled wide to outwardly match River's obvious cheer. The girl plopped to the deck next to her, teeth showing in a broad grin, too excited to speak. But she flipped her hair back over one shoulder and casually lifted her chin.

Kaylee caught on; she leaned in to look closer. What she saw served to finally distract her from her down-heartedness.

"Wŏ de mā! You got yourself a hickey!"

It wouldn't have seemed possible, but River's grin got bigger as she nodded several times. Kaylee pushed more of River's hair aside to check the other side of her neck.

"Shén shèng de gaōwán – you got two! Jase?"

The answer was another bright-eyed nod.

"The pretty eyes got you, huh?"

River's animated sigh spoke volumes.

"If he was a little older, you and me'd be havin' a fight right bout now," Kaylee teased. "There might'a been hair pullin'."

"Oh, Kaylee!" River had to hug the mechanic in her excitement. Kaylee just laughed, feeling giddy at River's happiness. She returned the hug, then pushed River back.

"Now - spill it. I want details, and don't be missin' a one of em."

River's mouth dropped open to start, but she didn't know what to say.

"Okay, you silly goose, start with somethin' easy – did ya like it?"

"Āi yā! Kaylee! I hear you think about it, and Jayne and Zoë and Wash and… everyone! But I didn't know…" She raised in her shoulders in a little shudder that expressed more than words could have.

"Where were ya?"

"In his bunk."

Kaylee's eyes widened. "On the bed?"

River nodded.

"River, did you – "

"No! Not ready for that."

"Not ready? You're almost eighteen. My first time was – "

"_He's_ not ready. Too hurt, needs time." River smiled. "But he wanted to."

Kaylee gave her a narrow-eyed look. "Were you diggin' round in his mind?"

River's smile turned to a grin. "No. Well, yes, but… sitting in his lap."

Kaylee slapped River's arm and howled with laughter.

.*. .*. .*.

The guards at the Skuld compound eyed Zoë with hostility, which wasn't unreasonable after the way she'd come busting through here two days ago, waving her gun and making off with a transport. Bucky shooed her back into the shuttle, something she normally wouldn't have taken kindly, but in this case she didn't mind. She'd prefer to stay to have a palaver with Wash.

She paused for a moment, watching from the darkness inside the shuttle to make sure the man made it through all right. Bucky did some quiet talking, then there was a round of handshakes and the guards backed off and let him go on his way.

Zoë went to the cockpit. Wash was sitting in the pilot's seat still, one foot wedged up against the control board, chewing a thumbnail and looking thoughtful.

"Bucky's in," she said.

"No problems?" Wash asked, dropping his foot to the deck and spinning the chair partly toward her.

"Not a one."

"Oh. Good."

Wash sat still, looking away from her. He clearly knew what was on her mind, and didn't want to get into it.

"We gotta work it out sooner or later," Zoë said.

"Do we really have to? Can't we just do the pretending thing? Because I don't have any problems with not fighting– "

Zoë shrugged. "No make-up sex."

"Good point."

Wash took a deep breath and turned his chair to fully face her. "All right," he said in resignation. "Have at it." He crossed his arms and looked at her glumly.

She cleared her throat. Truth was, she wasn't too keen on getting into this either, but it had to be done. She went to settle in the co-pilot's seat, taking time to gather words, though she'd already practiced this in her mind. It wasn't as easy as she'd pictured it.

After she sat for a bit, unable to get started, Wash asked, "So… were you going to say something? I'd really like to get this over with."

"Wash, I – "

"Because getting yelled at by my wife isn't the funnest thing. I don't exactly look forward it. I don't offer you my opinion – say, for instance, my take on the condition of, oh, something like a _spacesuit_ – just so I can get told to shut up."

"No, I – "

He interrupted her again, his voice rising. "I don't have military training, you know. I was never taught to turn off my brain just because someone with a higher _rank_ tells me to do it."

"I understand – "

"And I wasn't trying to stop you from going into vacuum for my own personal entertainment. I really believed you could have been killed. And… I don't care if you're a … an eighteen star general with a big hat and lots of…" he waved his hands over his chest, "… shiny medals and ribbons and things. Don't ever tell me to sit back and watch you die, because I won't do it."

Zoë dropped her head; she couldn't respond to that. Even if she'd tried, she wouldn't have gotten more than a few words in before he continued, pounding a finger on the control board.

"I do have some expertise with things like spacesuits. Military rank or not, I know what I'm talking about." He pointed to himself with his thumb. "Smart guy with the technology here. Real smart. Worth listening to."

"I know, honey."

"Well, maybe you should keep that in mind next time around!"

"I will."

His mouth dropped open, but then he snapped it shut and glared at her until he thought of something else to say.

"I'm really, really mad at you."

She nodded her agreement.

"And – Zoë?"

"Hmm?"

He still sounded mad, but his words made her smile a little. "I really needed to yell at you, and it works much better for me when you don't yell back."

"I imagine so."

"Good. Thank you." Wash leaned back in the chair, starting to look a little calmer. Then he glanced at her hopefully. "Are we done now?"

"Almost. I gotta have my say."

Wash shifted, looking a mite uneasy now that he'd be the one taking the lecture, and he'd have to take it in good grace just to match her. Once he got himself comfortable, he nodded and gave a bring-it-on wave of his hand. Zoë took a deep breath, and finally got the words out.

"Yesterday, I was talkin' to Mal about some stuff, and… I guess I've been thinkin' on how glad I am that we… I'm glad for what we got, you and me. I hope you know it."

Wash looked confused. "Um… aren't you supposed to be doing the dressing down thing? Something about obeying orders?"

"Well…" Zoë cleared her throat. "I may have gotten a little carried away. Like you said, you know about spacesuits, and I wasn't even listenin'. Anyhow, we ain't in the military, and we are married. That takes gettin' used to for me, and I guess I ain't used to it yet. Not all the time."

"So… you're saying…" He paused expectantly.

"Sorry," she said softly.

"What was that?"

She raised her voice. "I'm sorry."

Wash looked a little shocked, but he recovered quickly.

"Do I get the make-up sex now?"

.*. .*. .*.

"Open-mouth?"

"Of course!"

"Tongue?"

Blushing smile, nod.

"Kissin' below the neck?"

"No!"

"Touchin' bove the waist?"

Sigh. "Yes."

"Below?"

Frown. Head shake.

"Clothes on?"

"All clothes on."

"So you were just neckin'."

"_Necking_." River tried the word out and thought about it. "Yes, we were necking."

"For how long?"

Eyes rolled. "I forgot to check the clock."

"Ha-ha. So - did'ya get all shivery?"

"Shivery. Weak. Oh, he was really good at it. First time for him too."

"So he's a natural?"

"Mmm. Natural."

"What in the world are you two up to?"

Kaylee and River looked up, startled, as Simon entered the engine room.

"We could hear you all over the ship," he continued with a hesitant smile. "What's so funny?"

"River and I was just havin' some… girl talk."

"Oh, right," Simon replied. "Something I don't get to hear about, I'm sure."

"Nope," Kaylee said with a smile at River, "I'm thinkin' it's best you don't."

River nodded agreement as she stood up. "Couldn't take it."

But River didn't get away clean. She was heading toward the hatch when Simon grabbed her shoulder, and his eyes focused on her neck. "River… what is…" He repeated Kaylee's earlier movement, pushing River's hair back, but his reaction to what he saw was quite different.

"Is that a... hickey?"

"Learned about _necking_," River replied happily, seeming determined to ignore Simon's disapproval. "Jase too. Taught each other."

"You were kissing someone who tried to take over the ship?"

She frowned. "Didn't have a choice."

"He tried to kill the captain!"

"Not his fault!"

"But you're just… you can't do that! I… I won't let you go near him again."

"Won't be able to anyway. He's leaving." She sighed sadly.

"Good!"

River switched from sad to angry in a hurry. "You're jealous. I get kissed, you don't!"

"That's ridiculous!"

She sighed in mock pity and teased him. "Poor Simon! Can't get anyone to kiss him."

"Pardon me, but I have important things to do! Like look after you, which is taking up more and more of my time!"

River rolled her eyes and gave him a know-it-all look. "Tell yourself that if it helps." She walked out of the engine room, her head back as she stubbornly refused to hide her neck.

"You are so annoying," he said to her retreating back.

"You are so repressed!" she yelled back.

Simon shook his head and started to follow River, but Kaylee stood up and grabbed his arm. "Leave her be, Simon."

"I can't let her do this!"

"Why not? She's almost eighteen. It's natural for her to be learnin' to kiss."

"No it's not!"

"Didn't you ever make out when you were a teen?"

"Well, sure… but… I never let anyone _bruise_ me."

"Neckin' is a part of bein' that age. It's normal. It's how ya learn."

"She is not a normal teenager."

"And she'll never be a normal grown-up if you keep her locked up, if you go and… make her feel all dirty about nothin' but a little kissin'."

"Kissing – maybe. But getting marked like she's some common hussy is not acceptable behavior for my little sister."

Kaylee self-consciously raised a hand to her own neck. "Hussy? You think a few li'l hickies means a girl's a hussy?"

"Well, only the… you know, the _loose_ girls ever got..." Simon hesitated at Kaylee's expression, realizing that she was personally offended. He tried to back up. "I didn't mean… in general. It was just… where I went to school…"

He lost track of what he was saying when he saw Kaylee's eyes narrow. She approached him looking so angry that he backed away until he hit the bulkhead. But she didn't give him a piece of her mind like he expected; she placed her hands on his chest, then ran them up to his shoulders with a confident familiarity that completely caught him off guard. She leaned into him, and suddenly he had a good idea of what she was planning to do. He grabbed her elbows, meaning to push her away, but she gripped his shoulders tight, holding him against the wall with surprising strength, and then he felt her breath on his neck.

The past few days had pushed Simon about as far as he could go; he didn't have the strength of will to refuse this. She found the gap where the top button of his shirt was undone, softy kissing the hollow above his sternum, and his hold on her arms loosened. Tingles ran up his spine and his head tipped back of its own accord as her soft lips moved up his neck, pausing near his adam's apple before moving to the side. She slid a hand slowly up the other side of his neck, working her fingers into his hair and taking hold, and she tilted his head to give herself room to work.

Simon's eyes fell closed and he lifted his chin more, letting Kaylee do as she would. It'd been so long since he'd had any physical contact that wasn't the impersonal touches of his profession or the chaste, comforting hugs of his sister. Turning against his government and abandoning his career and his home hadn't exactly done wonders for his sex life. During the long, lonely years when he'd been trying to rescue River, he'd often longed for physical comfort, but he needed to feel a connection to the woman he was with before he could let his guard down.

He could never stomach casual sex. He'd tried once…

He cut off his thoughts, trying not to remember. He wasn't about to let a night of drunkenness and a really bad decision interfere with what was happening now. Kaylee was different – he could trust her. Maybe even stop worrying for once and let himself feel good.

It wasn't like she was giving him much choice. Her increasingly insistent mouth on his neck and her body lightly brushing against his made him turn to jelly, his breath catching in his chest, his knees weakening, and wordless little sounds escaping from his open mouth. In truth, he relished giving in, trading control for pure sensation. His hands on her elbows opened, his palms just lightly touching her bare skin, then slowly sliding up to the edge of the cap sleeves of her shirt. Lightly he gripped her arms; gently he pulled her closer.

"Kaylee," he gasped when he felt her teeth scrape against his skin.

She released the suction of her mouth on his neck, and for a few seconds stayed close to him. Her forehead lightly grazed his cheek as she raised a hand to wipe his neck dry. Then she stepped back, shaking his hands off her arms and leaving him feeling cold.

"There," she said cheerfully. "Now you can't go givin' River a hard time."

Reality returned with a shock. Simon lifted a hand to his neck, then pulled it away and looked at it, half expecting to see blood.

"What did you…?" he asked.

Kaylee stuck her tongue into the corner of her mouth thoughtfully as she leaned forward again to check her work.

"That'll darken up real nice. S'about time you got yourself a love bite..." She leaned back and grinned wider, "…Doctor Hussy."

The shivers in Simon's body had been replaced by the heat of humiliation, pleasure turning to something like nausea. It was a familiar sensation, but he'd have never thought that Kaylee would make him feel like this. And everyone would know. The whole crew would know how she'd found his weakness and made him look like a fool.

"A love… ?" he asked himself, and he remembered what they'd been talking about before. River's neck.

"A mirror… I need a mirror!" He stuttered, then held a hand over his neck as he dashed out of the engine room and down the corridor.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee watched Simon scurry away. On the inside, half of her was jumping up and down. She'd only meant to trick him enough to teach him a lesson; she'd hadn't expected such a reaction. Simon had _melted_. She'd made him melt! Kaywinnet Lee Frye had reduced the very proper Doctor Simon Tam to a puddle of whimpering need.

But the other half of her mind was a heavy weight that kept her from doing the little hopping twirl the moment deserved. She'd had chances with Simon before. She'd spent plenty of time close to him, sitting in the common room sharing stories, or drinking Mudder's Milk in Canton, or just walking together on the planets and stations _Serenity_ visited. She could have taken the plunge and kissed him anytime she liked.

But she never had. As much she liked loving, it couldn't be a one sided thing. It shouldn't be forced on anyone; it should happen when both people are ready. Especially when it was with someone as special as Simon.

The joyful part of Kaylee sank a little more, because that wasn't all there was to it. It wouldn't be so bad if she'd pushed herself on Simon purely because she wanted him. But she'd been feeling one thing when she pinned him against the bulkhead: rage. Pure, hot anger. She'd wanted to make him sorry for saying something that hurt her feelings.

Her first real contact with Simon had come out of a wish to hurt him.

Kaylee lowered herself to the deck, leaning against the bulkhead. The elation melted away and all she wanted to do was ball herself up and disappear. Simon had said stupid things before, but it'd never made her so mad. She hadn't thought she could feel that way toward someone she knew and cared about.

She finally had Simon, right in her hands. But she couldn't take him; he deserved better than the person she was right now.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal found the dining room dark and deserted, which was a little surprising considering that it was getting toward dinner time. He rounded the island and flipped on the light in the galley, then nearly jumped out of his skin at a loud shattering crash. A figure he didn't immediately recognize was furtively backing away from him.

He had his gun half out before he knew it, but then he recognized the teen standing on the far side of the galley, one arm in a sling. A broken bowl lay in a scattering of protein powder on the floor between them.

"What the hell are you doin' here in the dark?" Mal asked without thinking.

The boy took a few more steps back. "I just… I was… River said I could." He glanced at the hatch behind him like he was thinking of making a break for it, then back at the gun in Mal's hand. He was breathing fast, and Mal realized that he was nearly in a panic. Not surprising, considering that Mal had already shot him once.

Mal put the gun away and held up his hands. "Hey, relax," he said. "I ain't mad. You just startled me is all."

The boy didn't answer; he still looked ready to run.

"You're Jase, right?"

He got a short nod in reply.

"I saw you when you were still out, in the infirmary. I'm the captain. You can call me Mal."

Jase didn't look so happy to be on a first name basis. He backed up another step toward the hatch, but then he stopped and held his ground, his face setting in determination. He gave Mal a long look, like he was sizing him up.

"Well, ain't this awkward as hell?" Mal said. "Me bein' the one who shot you and all."

There was no response. Mal motioned at the sling. "How's it doin'?"

Jase looked at Mal like he thought it was a trick question. Mal sighed. He'd experienced one-sided conversations with teens before; it was hard work. And he'd hadn't ever found himself trying to make friends with one he'd nearly killed. Were there social guidelines for this kind of thing?

"I've been shot myself a few times," he tried, going for the something-in-common approach. "Ain't the funnest thing in the world, huh?"

Jase shifted uncomfortably.

So that flopped. Mal looked at the mess on the floor. "I take it you're hungry?"

Jase shook his head, but Mal wasn't quite buying that. The kid wasn't panicked anymore, but he clearly wanted to leave more than he wanted to eat. He was inching around behind the galley island, like he was hoping to put it between himself and Mal.

Mal turned to a cabinet behind him and grabbed a little handheld broom and dustpan. "I wouldn't be hungry either, if I was fixin' up this gōu shī," he said with a nod toward the scattered protein powder. "You got lucky though – it just happens that we got real food on board at the moment, if you can wait a bit for the cookin' of it."

Mal kneeled next to the broken bowl, preparing to sweep up the mess, but Jase stepped forward. "I can do that," he said.

Mal looked at the hand held out for the broom, then up at Jase's other arm in the sling. "It might be a little tough for you."

"But… it's my mess. I should clean it up."

Mal grinned and continued sweeping. "That's mighty decent of you. Really. Some of the folks on my boat'll do a lot to avoid cleanin' up after themselves. But don't worry, I got it."

The boy dropped his hand and stepped back. Mal expected him to slink off, but he didn't. He stood and watched the captain of the ship clean up his broken bowl, looking overwhelmed by the situation.

As Mal was emptying the dust pan, Jase spoke up again. "Um… Captain?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry bout the bowl. I ain't got no money, but I'll pay you back for it. Sometime."

"Tell you what, how bout you pay me back in hard labor. We're gonna have some hungry people showing up soon – you set the table while I put together some vittles, and we'll call it even."

Jase looked at Mal doubtfully, but he nodded.

Mal pointed out the location of plates and silverware, then got a hunk of wild turkey thawing out. He snuck glances at Jase while he cooked; it was slow work setting the table with one arm, but the boy went about it with meticulous care, like it was a big occasion to have dishes and utensils to put out. But there was no ease between them. Jase waited for Mal to move away from the cabinets before coming close. He was quietly adamant about staying out of Mal's reach.

During and after the war, Mal had seen plenty of people who'd had a hard time of it. He'd seen folks who were shell-shocked, who cowered at loud noises and didn't like to be touched. This boy's behavior had a familiarity that Mal didn't like at all; he especially didn't like having someone act like that on account of him. He found himself staying out of the way, trying to help the kid feel safer.

After a time, Mal put a lid over the pan where the turkey and the remains of the greens were simmering into something that would hopefully be half-edible, and he looked at Jase. The table was set and the boy was standing on the far side of it, silently watching Mal.

"I'd like to have a few words with you, if you don't mind too much," Mal said. He waited until Jase nodded, then went to his customary place at the head of the table. Jase started for the far end, but Mal didn't let him.

"Why don't you sit a little closer so we don't have to shout."

Jase hesitated, looking at the hatch again, but he turned back. He didn't sit next to Mal; he left one empty chair between them, sitting down slow like he expected to be stopped. He had control over his face now, keeping it expressionless, but his shoulders were curled forward defensively. Wouldn't take much of a boo to send him scuttling for cover.

Mal cleared his throat. "Look – I, uh… I'm sorry about shootin' you. Wasn't nothin' personal."

Jase wiped at his nose, then he answered in a quiet voice, "I'd a' shot you first if I was any good at aimin'."

"That so?"

Jase nodded, still looking down at the plate in front of him. "It was… decent of you to let the doc help me."

"Wasn't really my choice at the time, I had other things I was… thinking about, I guess you could say. But he did the right thing. It ain't my way to leave a person to bleed to death, no matter what they've been up to."

The boy tucked his hair behind his ear. It was a nervous gesture; right away he pulled it back out, let it hang forward and hide his face.

"I hear that you weren't part of the attack, that you were just tryin' to protect your own. That the truth?"

Jase thought about it before he nodded.

"You managed to stop me from shooting Ray, if that makes you feel better. You saved his life."

"Died anyway."

"Yeah. It wasn't what any of us wanted."

Jase didn't reply.

"Did you know that he was threatening someone real important to me at the time?"

"You shot him, didn't you?" Jase asked, and, for the first time, he looked at Mal steadily. As flighty as the boy was, Mal found that stare more than a mite disturbing. Intense, and near impossible to read. There were a lot of thoughts going on in that head. Mal couldn't tell what they were, but he was very glad that he'd taken the blame for Ray's death. He didn't want to see this look aimed at Kaylee; he preferred to deal with it himself.

Mal didn't drop his eyes while he took a guess. "I figure you might not be real happy with me right now. Might even be feelin' some need to get even."

The stare wavered, then the boy looked away.

"That how it is?" Mal asked.

Jase stared into his lap for a long time. Finally, he shrugged his one good shoulder.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be surprised if you had a grudge," Mal said. "Seems natural. But I'm tellin' you, that's a heavy thing to carry around, especially for someone as young as you. You won't do yourself any good by always lookin' to settle a score."

There was no reaction to that at all. Damned kid was a brick wall now, but Mal continued.

"For what it's worth, which is most like a big stinky pile of niú fèn, I mean you no harm. River says you're okay, and she has a way of bein' right about these things."

Mal got nothing but a tight lipped glance in response, and he wondered what he'd gotten himself into. Kids had a tendency to grow up, and the verse could be a small place. He didn't like the idea of someone out there wanting to hunt him down. But there wasn't much to be done about it; he wasn't about to take preventive measures against a teenager.

Mal had nothing else to say. He stood up to go check on dinner, but Jase's hesitant voice stopped him.

"I ain't mad at you. I just…"

Mal stood where he was and waited for the boy to sort out his thoughts.

"He used to be my Pa," Jase finally said. "But there were times… there were times I wanted to kill him myself. I hated him. I was glad to hear he was dead."

He looked up, and the guilt in his face was painful to see. Mal sat back down.

"Ray was a hard man," Mal said. "I can see you might'a had reason to feel like you do. But there's no crime in thinkin' a thing. You had no part in what happened; you got nothing to feel bad about."

Jase looked down, plainly unconvinced. It was going to take more than a few kind words to fix what was wrong with him.

"Hey," Mal said. He waited till the boy looked up at him. "You're not goin' back there. Things are gonna be better for you now."

He waited for a reaction that didn't come, not until the boy's eyes shifted toward the hatch behind Mal. Then he smiled. Mal turned to follow his look and saw River coming down the stairs. Without a word, she sat down across the table from Jase.

Mal gladly turned the conversation over to her, and went to the galley to start cleaning up. He kept himself busy there, but he watched the goings-on at the table. There wasn't much talk, but there was plenty of communication of the non-verbal kind. Mal could see Jase's face, and was surprised to catch the boy still smiling as he stared at River. Kid looked like a whole different person.

At a simultaneous laugh from the two, Mal looked up again and saw feet intertwined under the table. That got him to thinking, and when he went to set some food out he had a closer look. He pushed River's hair aside to be sure of what he saw on her neck. Then he looked across at Jase, and noticed something similar there.

"River?" Mal asked. "You ain't bein' stupid, are you?" He stood over her until she looked up and met his eye. Yep, she knew what he meant.

"I am many things, Captain, but I'm not stupid." He knew what she meant, too.

"Good girl," Mal said, then he looked across the table. Jase was very interested in the spoon at his place setting, shifting it around on the placemat. He looked nervous, but not so flat-out scared as before. When Mal reached across and chucked him on the shoulder, Jase looked up, startled.

"You got your hands full with this one, kid," Mal said with a grin. "Good luck."

Jase looked away quickly, but Mal saw the ghost of a smile. He chuckled as he went back to the galley; he had the feeling he'd just proven himself a 'cool' grown-up. He supposed he ought to come down on them a bit, but this one was really Simon's problem. Besides, the boy wasn't staying long, and it looked like these two might actually be doing each other some good. A little loving between two people who'd been hurt a lot; how could that be such a bad thing?

The thought stuck in Mal's mind as he finished cleaning up.

The crew gathered for dinner. The two temporary additions to the ship would have made for a crowded table, but Zoë, Wash and Bucky were still gone. The rest of the group pulled up their chairs and were just digging in when a rattling voice sounded from the hall, growing in volume as footsteps approached.

"So many stairs! Must keep you in very good shape. Always climbing, up and down. Very good exercise. Keep you young. Strong legs. Strong lungs. Whew!" The foodsteps stopped, and there was an audible sound of breath blown out. "Ah – this here. Jīn shŭ xiàn. Wiring for hydraulics? Route this way? Gàn má? Hmm. Must ask pretty mechanic. Is qí guài way to do it; I not so sure about that."

Mal turned around – a small Chinese woman appeared in the hatch behind him, Bucky and his two missing crew members following just behind.

"Oh, very good! Big, nice dining room! For family dinner, how proper! How hóng!" She pointed up at the ceiling. "And view out top, too, to see stars in Black. I like! Very good!"

She hopped down the stairs and proceeded straight to the table, finding Jayne first. The merc stayed sitting and only leaned away from her a little while she hugged him, and she rambled on the whole time about his improved smell and appearance. "Clean up very well. I was right! Very good man." Mal would have sworn that anyone who attempted to pinch Jayne's cheek would end with a broken wrist, but this woman proved him wrong. She went to Kaylee next, whose face lit up in a real smile as she hugged the old woman back. Then the lady caught sight of Jase, and she trotted to him with a squeal.

"Jase! Bucky told me he find you! You okay? Why this?" She lightly touched his sling, then shifted her attention to his face, her hands moving with the firm expertise of a mother as she checked the temperature of his forehead and lifted his chin so she could see the bruise on his mouth. "What do you get in trouble?" she muttered, and shook a finger at him. "You young ones – always getting hurt. Need to be more careful!" Then she got distracted, staring at his neck. "Hmm…" was her only comment, then she turned and scanned everyone else at the table. Her eyes settled quickly on River, and she squinted as she looked closer at the girl, making a small "Mmm-hmm" noise.

Mal took the opportunity to give Zoë a questioning look. She shrugged helplessly, earning a glare. Mal had heard about the loquacious Xiaojun, but he hadn't been expecting the lady to make an appearance on his ship.

Xiaojun moved on to the food on the table. "What is this? How do you eat this? No good! Next time, I cook. Growing boy cannot eat like this! Bù jì shì!"

Mal gave up any control he might have had over his dinner table and sat back to watch Xiaojun take over. He wasn't quite prepared for the reality of this lady. Eventually, the crew convinced her to pull up a seat and partake in what food they had, though she wavered between politeness and common sense, alternately dropping vague complements and declaring the food inedible. He was glad she hadn't arrived during one of their usual protein meals; the lecture would have been fierce.

The woman's cheer seemed to breathe some life into Kaylee, who sat next to Xiaojun, listening to detailed descriptions of every part the lady had brought along for fixing up the mule. Simon seemed relieved to see Kaylee talking. He'd been uptight at the beginning of dinner – or maybe it was the high necked shirt he had buttoned all the way up his throat that made him seem so tense.

Mal noticed how Zoë and Wash pulled their chairs close together, and shared touches and whispered comments like they were newlyweds. He was happy to see it; at least someone on this boat had worked things out for the better lately.

But his attention was mostly drawn to Inara, who didn't contribute a word. She'd hardly touched the food on her plate, and seemed to disappear behind the lively conversation that Xiaojun stirred up (and largely dominated). Before long, Inara slipped away from the table, unnoticed by most of the crew.

Mal glanced at Zoë and she nodded to him. "Hăo yùn," she said softly, and Mal went after Inara.

"Not hungry?" Mal asked.

Inara stopped, obviously startled that she was being followed. She turned back to him. "No, I'm not. Did you need something?"

"Just wondering why you're leavin' so early."

"The table seemed a little full." She turned and continued on her way, but Mal followed.

"Look, Inara. There's a bunch of things you never explained about the past few days."

She didn't stop. "I'll fill out a full report in the morning," she replied sharply.

"Now, now - there's no call for bein' tetchy."

"I'm not being... tetchy. I'm just tired."

"Tired? That all?"

She reached the catwalk and stopped, turning back to him again. "Are you implying something?"

"Why'd you come back early?"

"Excuse me?"

"From your appointment. You were all set to leave, go to the Core. What happened to change your mind?"

"It's none of your business."

Mal sighed impatiently. "Yeah, I think it is. I gotta make plans around you, and it ain't easy…" He stopped himself. That wasn't right; it was just the same old excuse he'd always used, talking ship's business to avoid saying what he really thought. That wasn't good enough anymore. It was time to be truthsome, whether Inara liked it or not. No matter what she was telling him, she wasn't all right, and he knew it.

She'd started walking away from him again, but he caught up to her at the hatch to her shuttle, grabbing her elbow to make her stop. "Inara, you don't need the act. Whatever happened… you're not alone here."

He knew from her expression that it was no good; she didn't want his help. "It'd be better if I were alone," she snapped. "I'm tired of you always getting in my way. Could you just leave me be for once?"

She yanked her arm from his grip and slammed the hatch in his face. He heard the lock engage and stepped back; this was a waste of time. He wasn't able to reach this woman, and she clearly didn't want to be reached.

_I had to make up my mind that I wanted him, and I had to let go of bein' safe._

Zoë's words came back to him, and Mal stopped. Walking away right now would be the safer path, but that didn't make it the best. He had to think on it.

He sat down on the steps. Zoë'd had a point with something else she'd said; he did know what it was like to push other folks away. He'd done it when he was hurting so bad that he thought he wouldn't make it through. He'd said his share of harsh words to folk who didn't deserve it, just trying to get them to leave him alone. And maybe he'd have been better letting them help. Could be, at times like that he actually _wanted_ company. Could very well be that he was just looking for someone who wasn't scared off, a person who didn't give up until he accepted the help.

And then Mal realized – there'd been someone who didn't give up so easy. Inara. After Oeneus, she'd insisted on doing what she could for him, even resorting to trickery, and it may have saved his sanity. Seemed that maybe he owed her a favor. But he wasn't a trained Companion; he wasn't likely to soothe Inara like she had him, no matter how he tried. What the hell did he know about being good company? He'd probably just end up fighting with her, and making her feel worse than she did already.

_Sometimes you have to take the risk of puttin' someone else first. Set aside your own worries, even the feeling that nothin' you got will be enough._

Mal smiled to himself, wondering if there was more than one psychic on his boat. Zoë'd known exactly what was going on with him, and what was holding him back.

Guess it came down to this: did he want Inara enough to take a risk? Maybe it was time to make up his mind. Maybe it was that easy.

He took a deep breath, then stood up and pounded his fist against the locked hatch.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
wŏ de mā: holy mother of god  
shén shèng de gaōwán: holy testicle Tuesday  
āi yā: damn  
gōu shī: crap  
niú fèn: cow dung  
jīn shǔ xiàn: metal wire  
gàn má: whatever for  
qí guài: strange; odd  
hóng: spacious  
bù jì shì: no good  
hăo yùn: good luck

* * *

**Chapter 24.**

Mal was yelling, but his voice came through only faintly.

_Open the gorram hatch!_

Inara looked up. "Go away," she said, though she wasn't speaking loud enough for him to hear.

A few dull booms echoed through her shuttle. _I ain't askin' again!_

She raised her voice. "Mal, I don't want to talk to you." She waited expectantly for whatever he'd come up with as a threat, but there was no reply.

After the silence stretched, she freshened the ink on her quill, surprised but relieved that he'd given up so easily. But she'd just touched the quill to the parchment when the lock on the hatch disengaged with a click. She sighed – of course he hadn't given up. He must have gone to the bridge to release the lock; it was so childish, so like Mal. She stood up. By the time he got back to her shuttle she'd have it locked again. How long would this continue?

But the hatch opened before she got there, and Mal stepped in.

"How did you – ?" she started.

"Got Zoë to override from the bridge."

"Of course." She returned to the divan and bent over her half-finished parchment of calligraphy. "I guess I should invite you to make yourself at home, since you will anyway."

He didn't take the hint, but then landlord/tenant privacy issues never had meant much to him. She glanced up again; he just stood by the hatch, watching her without saying a word. The bruises had darkened on his face, particularly on his right cheekbone. But the swelling was down; the doctor had some fine medicines.

Inara realized she was staring at him and looked away. "You broke into my shuttle to play charades?" she asked with cold sarcasm, trying to cover her concern for his injuries. "Do I get a hint to start off with? Person? Title?"

He wasn't amused. "What happened?"

"Oh, that's right – I heard you were fuzzy on the details." She forced herself to smile at him. "Nothing too wild. Bad guys, complications, and we somehow pulled through in the end. The usual."

"No. I mean what happened with you."

She shrugged and focused on her writing again. "Also not complicated. It wasn't really a fair fight. Your friend Will had obviously never met a Companion before; he seemed to think he'd find me terrified and helpless."

"Yeah, I heard bout how you handled him. Thanks, by the way. He wasn't actually real friendly." He paused, but she had a feeling he wasn't done. She was right.

"I ain't talkin' bout Willy."

It was Inara's turn to be silent. She didn't notice Mal crossing the room, but when she looked up again he was standing right in front of the table she was writing on, arms folded across his chest and face stern.

"Someone hit you," he said. "And I'm fair sure it happened before you got back on board."

Inara raised her left hand to her cheek before she could stop herself. The make-up hid the shadow of the bruise perfectly; how could he…?

"I saw it when you came on the bridge the first time. Sides, you ain't actin' right. Something's eatin' at you."

She dipped her quill and continued with the next character. It was a tricky one, requiring her full concentration, or so she told herself. She kept her head down. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Was it your client? That pretty rich boy?"

"Leave it alone."

He kept looking at her, and Inara had to fight back an urge to squirm. "It's none of your business," she insisted. But her hand was suddenly unsteady, and the stroke she was making came out all wrong, ruining the whole parchment. She bit her lip in frustration and laid the quill on the blotting sheet.

"Inara," Mal said in a softer voice, "you told me how you came back from a job once, hurt, and I never even noticed. Well, I'm seein' it this time."

To her horror, Inara found her eyes tearing up. She didn't look up at him, just blinked hard and turned her hands over, as if checking her fingers for ink stains. Her vision was too blurry for her to actually see.

"Congratuations, Captain. Your powers of perception are astounding."

Her sarcasm wasn't enough to make him back off. "Better believe it. And this time I ain't lettin' you handle it by yourself."

The blinking didn't clear her eyes. The feeling she'd been trying to bury was working its way loose, and the harder she tried to stop it, the worse it became. She put her hand against her forehead to block her face from his view.

"Please, Mal. Please go away."

She realized he was sitting down next to her. But she couldn't take it – if he touched her now, she'd completely break apart. She pushed herself to her feet and stepped away, keeping her back to him while she wiped her face.

"I realize that you are the Grand Master Captain," she started, but her voice didn't have the lightly amused tone that she'd intended. In fact, it was as shaky as her hands. She paused; it wasn't difficult to find a well of anger to tap into, just to steady herself, and her voice was even when she continued. "You like to stick your nose into every little thing on this ship and order everyone around, but not me. I am not part of your crew."

"I guess officially ya ain't, but – "

She didn't let him finish. "So, I… ask you to recall that my business is just that: mine. What happens between myself and my clients is not your concern. I believe I made that clear when we first entered into this arrangement, did I not?"

Inara turned back to him, but she didn't even notice if he tried to reply. She was finding that her anger ran deep, and she had much more to say. "In fact, there were several items about which I was explicit, and to which you agreed, but you've shown a great deal more honor in your dealings with pirates and thieves than you have with me."

She was gathering momentum now, and it felt good. "Yesu, Mal, I pay you rent for nothing! I haven't been able to find a decent client in months, and the few appointments I've made have been interrupted by your bēi wēi jobs and your amazing talent for getting in trouble!"

To her satisfaction, he looked offended by the 'bēi wēi.' She turned toward the hatch and waved at it: further evidence of his transgressions.

"You just _broke_ into my locked shuttle! And now you're butting into my affairs, matters which have absolutely nothing to do with you." She raised her hands to her sides, a gesture of disbelief. "Mal, you… you're unbelievable. Save us both the time. Just call me a whore and get out!"

She stared at him, pleased that he looked a little ruffled. But he returned her stare and didn't say anything, and the little bit of ire she'd managed to raise in him slowly drained from his face. Inara turned and paced to the far side of the small space, her mind racing in frustration. When she looked at him again, he was still sitting, still silently watching her, and he looked calm – more than calm, he looked concerned. Worried about her.

There was something infuriating about that. She took a few steps toward him, and let her voice carry a threat.

"Mal, get out. Now! Or I'll show you a thing or two about my _whore_ training."

That finally got a verbal response. He blinked in surprise before he asked, "Such as?"

"Such as how easily I can knock you senseless. Of course, I might need help with dragging your chuái shī shŏu out of here afterwards, but at least I'd have some peace!"

Her words hung in the air, seeming to echo in the small space. Mal scratched his nose, then he cleared his throat and looked up at her doubtfully.

"Chuái shī shŏu?"

She made herself stand tall and not take it back, instead folding her arms and looking down at him. Disdain, she told herself. Haughty disdain. It gets him every time.

But, apparently, not this time. The húndàn actually grinned and tapped his head. "Okay, but you might wanna take it easy on the noggan. Lots a' hard knocks lately, it's kind'a fragile. Rest of me's all yours though, if you wanna work off any more a' this bad mood."

Inara exhaled impatiently and turned away. She walked to the bulkhead by the cockpit, leaned there for a second, then slid down to sit on the floor in front of it. She pulled her knees up to her chest and put her hands over her face.

Wet – her cheeks were wet. Āi yā, she'd been crying this whole time. No wonder he wouldn't get mad at her. _Well done, truly a fully trained and in-control Companion. Way to expertly bend the man to your will._

With an effort, she composed her face and dropped her hands, but she had to wait a little longer before she was sure she could speak in a steady voice.

"Captain, you need to leave now."

She covered her face again and waited. She was too drained to look up; she couldn't fight any more. The only defense she had left was to ignore him and hope he'd go away.

Finally, she heard Mal stand up. But he didn't leave. He walked around the shuttle, muttering to himself, "Seem to recall… you put it here… Ahh, that's it." She heard water running in the head, and then he was there, crouching in front of her, and he gently touched her knee.

She looked up. He had a glass of water in one hand, and opened the other to show her a small white pill.

"You know the drill," he said with a crooked smile.

Inara had to look away. Trust this man to always do the wrong thing, to suddenly be all kindness and empathy when what she really needed was an excuse to rage at him. She wanted to stretch the chasm between them wider and wider so he'd never get across, but the sneaky bastard just went and stepped around it like it wasn't there.

Then she realized how close he was to her right now, the back of one of his hands resting on her knee. And not just physically close. Maybe it was the real Mal crouching in front of her, looking at her as if he cared, as if he was open to her.

Her defenses were so weak; if she took that pill, she'd lose what little command she had over herself. She might take whatever it was he was really offering her.

She shook her head. "That isn't necessary."

"Course it ain't necessary. But it's a helluva lot more fun than stewin' in it."

"Stewing in what?"

"Whatever happened."

She looked at the pill again. There was more to it than he knew. "It's not a good idea," she said, but her voice lacked conviction and she knew it.

"Yeah, that's what I thought once, then you tricked me into takin' it and it worked out just fine."

"But Mal…" Her head dropped to her knees, too heavy to hold up.

He set down the water and brushed back her hair. "Inara, what happened?"

She lifted her head and pushed his hand away. "Dăi húndàn," she swore softly.

"You keep callin' me names like that, I'll have to raise your rent."

"I wasn't talking about you."

"Yeah, I know. I'm more năo huŏ than dăi, ain't I?"

She nodded. Damn him for being comforting. She didn't want him here. She didn't need him.

Gōu shī – yes, she did. Who knew better than a Companion the value of comfort? Of having someone who'd listen? Someone to touch?

She looked at the pill he still held out for her. She pictured taking his hand in both of hers, using her thumbs to stretch his palm open. She imagined leaning forward; a soft kiss first, then she'd part her lips, have just a taste of his skin as she took the pill into her mouth.

She looked up at him. His poor face. But his mouth wasn't bruised. She wanted to kiss him there, too.

"Mal, I really shouldn't… it's not right…"

"What ain't right?"

She sniffed and shook her head, but she knew it was too late. He'd won their ongoing battle; he'd gotten to her this time. She needed Mal, needed him badly and she couldn't fight it. Not when he was like this. So she gave up. She held her hand out and he dropped the pill into it.

It was a good feeling, giving up control of herself. She set down the water and felt a calmness fold around her like a softly padded shell, holding her together, though everything inside was still all wrong. She knew that it was a mistake to take that pill, and she was going to regret it, but that would come later. For now, she wasn't alone. Gods, what a relief.

"Peter didn't touch me," she said.

Mal tilted his head, giving her a skeptical look, then he tenderly brushed his thumb against her cheek. "C'mon, Inara, don't lie to me."

She turned her face away from his touch. "Oh, that." She smiled. "He was actually trying to defend himself. I attacked him."

He snorted. "You're shittin' me."

The grudging respect in his voice made her smile. How did he do that? Make her smile when she felt so completely awful?

"No… shit." The word felt strange rolling off her tongue. She rarely let herself be coarse, but what did it matter right now? It felt so good not to care.

"Did he try…"

"No, he had absolutely no interest in me. Physically."

"What kind'a idiot… I mean – "

"He had a girl, Mal. In his bed. Not even in her teens. She looked scared to death."

Mal let out a breath. He shifted to sit against the bulkhead next to her, and she was grateful that he didn't touch her; she felt too fragile for physical contact.

"So you 'knocked him senseless'?"

"Well… I aimed a bit lower. It wasn't his senses I was after."

He shared a wry smile with her. "Got him good?"

"He won't be bedding that girl anytime soon. In fact, I doubt he enjoyed his last few days of freedom from the constraints of Core society. Which, apparently, turned out to be his last few days of freedom, period."

Mal gave her appraising look. "Willy and Peter, took 'em both down, all in one day. That Companion trainin' must be somethin' else."

"Yes, it… can be quite useful."

Mal was quiet for a spell, then he asked, "So… if he weren't interested in you for that, why'd he – "

"He only hired me to impress his aunt, and the competition. To get a step up." She hesitated before she added the last part, and the words were acrid in her mouth. "He hired me for the _honor_ of having his own Companion, and it… it was awful. So… you were right. You told me so. Enjoy."

When he didn't answer, she glanced at him. He was looking down at his hands.

"I'm sorry," he finally said.

She looked away.

"Inara?"

"Yes?"

"That all?"

She sighed heavily. "That's all."

"Bullshit."

She dropped her head in her hands again. Why couldn't he leave it alone? "What, it's not enough?"

"I don't think it is."

She laughed, but it was bitter. "It takes a lot of hardship to impress Malcolm Reynolds."

"That ain't it. You may look all soft and fluffy, but you're one of the toughest gorram women I ever known. And that includes a whole heap of soldiers and the like. I think there's some reason this got under your skin so bad."

"Keep your captaining job," she bluffed, "you're misguided as a therapist."

He smiled, but didn't back off. "Inara, did that girl… was that… somethin' personal?"

"No." She looked up, met his eyes. "No, Mal. Réncí de Fozu, nothing like that ever happened to me."

"But you told me… you said that …"

"Once, as a grown woman, I had a client overstep his bounds. It was … unpleasant. But I knew enough to understand that it wasn't my fault. That he was the sick one."

She paused and thought it through. The past few days had brought back more bad feelings than she could handle. The truth, the real nightmare of her last year in the Core, was a road she wasn't going to go down. Not with herself, and certainly not with Mal. Nothing could make her do that. The best drug in the verse wouldn't make her talk about it. So she decided to mislead him.

"All right, maybe seeing her did bring out some especially bad feelings. I've seen girls like that at the Academy, brought in for treatment and counseling. I guess I have a fair amount of anger towards men who would be so cruel to a girl, or to anyone." It wasn't a lie, just a misdirection.

"And you sent him off to jail, too. Him and Will, both beat up and locked away. Must have felt good."

"Actually," she replied softly, "it didn't feel good at all."

Inara looked away from him, then leaned her head back against the bulkhead. And she realized she was feeling the effects of the pill; a few muscles in her neck let go as the smallest amount of tension left her. She sighed, pleased at the timing. She was ready to be done with talking.

She rolled her head to the side to look at him. "Mal, I remember the drill, but you seem to have forgotten."

He grinned. "You feelin' nice?"

"Will be soon."

"Where's that fuzzy blanket?"

She pointed to a chest against the far wall and Mal got to his feet.

Inara sat with her arms limp beside her, watching Mal strip the bed and lay the thick blanket on one side of it. He even lit a fresh stick of incense and a few more candles, then lowered the lights.

She liked how he moved. She liked how he was shaped. Tall, solid, but not too big. So quietly masculine. Not the overblown bulkiness of a vain man, just the healthy strength of one who had to work hard in his everyday life. She liked the curve of his neck, the way his hair caught the light. She'd only touched his hair once, when he was unconscious, drugged by Saffron, and she'd been too distressed to enjoy it properly.

Inara truly didn't judge her clients based on physical appearance. She meant what she'd told Kaylee once, that compatibility was a matter of the spirit. Inara believed to her core that physical attractiveness was meaningless.

Still, if she were going to choose a lover based purely on looks…

Mal crouched in front of her and Inara realized what she'd just been thinking. She couldn't look him in the eye, afraid that she'd start laughing and he'd ask her why. He gently pulled her to her feet and led her to the bed.

"Now, I understand if you wanna protect your modesty…" he started, but he never finished his sentence. Inara pulled away from him, and in one smooth motion her thin silk gown came over her head and dropped to the floor. The bra and panties underneath were off just as quickly, though she needed one hand on his elbow for balance.

When she straightened and looked up to see his reaction, Mal was staring at the ceiling. "Well, I guess that makes it… simple. Why don't you just… lay down there and I'll get somethin'…"

Inara stretched out on her stomach, and smiled when she felt a blanket laid over her derriere. He was such a prude.

Mal set a bowl on the table next to the bed. While he'd been filling it with hot water, Inara had arranged the blanket so that it barely concealed her backside. Woman sure wasn't shy.

The skin of her back seemed to glow, showing the graceful line of her spine, the light muscle around her shoulder blades, the broadening of her lower back into her hips. Good lord, she was beautiful. She had her face turned toward him, eyes closed but a slight smile on her lips like she knew what he was doing.

Ah, hell, of course she knew.

"Can't blame a man for havin' a look," he said.

Her smile grew. "Yes I can," she replied, "when he has something else he could be doing."

Mal took a deep breath. She was right: this wasn't about him. It was about her. Being unhappy. And it was about time for him to do something for this woman besides saying stupid things that hurt her.

He took a soft cloth out of the steaming bowl and squeezed the excess water out of it, then copied what she'd done for him once: starting at her neck, going slowly down her spine to where the blanket covered her. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and he felt a chill run up his own back as he remembered how it had felt on him. Slowly he continued over her ribs, the muscles of her shoulders and neck, and down each arm. He spent a while on each hand, one finger at a time, and he noticed she wasn't smiling anymore. Her face was slack; she was lost in sensation.

Mal felt a clenching in his stomach at the sight, a surge of protectiveness. He reminded himself that it was largely the drug, probably more than it was him. But it gave him a sense of satisfaction anyway, to provide comfort to Inara when she needed it.

He tried to keep his thoughts noble as he moved on to her legs, but it wasn't easy. The soft roundness of her thighs, the dimples in the backs of her knees that needed to be tickled and kissed, the muscles of her calves that narrowed into her ankles... By the time he got to her feet, his mouth was dry. She had a few gold toe rings. Perfect.

He cleared his throat. "Inara?"

The reply was slow in coming. "Hmm?"

He patted her calf. "Sunny side up."

While she turned over, he picked up her discarded dress to cover the delicate areas of her top half, though she smiled like she thought he was silly for doing it. He waited for her to settle, and then he waited a little bit more. He was tempted to start with her face, to touch her cheeks and nose and chin and caress away any worry that might be hiding in her forehead. But there was something too personal about that, and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He took another deep breath, then lightly passed the cloth across a shoulder blade, around the base of her neck, and across to the sculpted roundness of her shoulder. Then he continued down her arm to her hand.

He found her fingers clenched in the blanket. Both of her hands were, he realized. That confused him – he didn't remember feeling anything like that when he'd been the one getting the workover. Her breath was rapid as well, which he didn't recall at all.

"Now, what's goin' on with this?" he asked quietly, touching the back of her hand. "Am I doin' such a bad job?"

She shook her head slightly.

"So, relax. Okay?"

Inara took a slow, deep breath and released her grip on the blanket, and he lifted her nearest hand.

He was massaging the warm, wet cloth into her palm when he noticed her eyes were open. She was watching his hands on hers. Then her eyes shifted to meet his, and before he could interpret what he saw there, she moved. Fast but smooth and quiet as a cat, she sat up and her hands clutched the collar of his shirt, pulling him to her. Her lips pressed to his.

Mal remembered well the kiss they'd shared before, when he was the one on drug-induced fire and Inara was doing the nursing. Gorram, he more than remembered, he'd had dreams about it. So he figured the least he could do, as a gentleman, was return the favor.

Oddly, that other kiss had been slow and lazy and sensuous, but there was nothing languorous about what Inara was doing right now. He went with it, letting one hand stroke the cloth over the moist skin of her back; that didn't seem too far beyond the bounds of the situation. Things started going over the edge when the folded up gown slipped down and her bare breasts pressed against his shirt. It was definitely too much when Inara's hand slid down his side and brushed over the front of his pants.

Mal swatted her hand away and pulled back. "Whoa, Inara – easy there." He wanted to stand up, get some distance, but she still had one hand tightly clenching the front of his shirt; she might have fallen to the floor if he pulled away. She leaned into him again, and he had a good close-up look at her darkened eyes. Suddenly, her heavy breathing took on a whole new meaning.

"Yìqĭ shènhùxì," he muttered, mostly to himself. He dropped the cloth on the floor and put his hands on her shoulders to hold her away from him.

"Mal – "

He didn't let her continue. "Last time," he said, "when it was me, you said this relaxes everythin'…"

"Women don't need tension to have sex, shă guā." She moved a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him close for another kiss.

Mal didn't resist it near as much as he should have, but he finally did manage to turn his head away. "Inara, this ain't right. You don't know what you're doin'."

"You knew what you were doing last time, when you kissed me."

"Now, that was a whole different situation – "

"Mal, _look_ at me." She worked her hands up his neck and into his hair, combing her fingers through it and trying to coax him closer. "It would be inhuman to leave me in this state."

"Oh, I am lookin', and I'm all kinds a' human, but this just ain't – "

"Dè le," Inara said, and she caught him by surprise with a hard shove to his chest.

Mal found himself laying on his back on the thick rug, a naked Inara straddling his waist, her skin glowing gold in the candlelight. He took a deep breath, but couldn't hold it for long. "Wŏ de mā," he muttered as he exhaled.

Her fingers interlaced with his, holding his hands aside so he couldn't push her away. He had to admit though, he wasn't trying real hard. She leaned over him; her breath tickled his neck as she rubbed her cheek against his jaw. He couldn't hold back a groan; this situation was quickly going beyond anything he could process.

"Please, Mal," she whispered.

Which was all kinds of nice, but it did make him wonder – could it be possible that he was lying on his back, Inara Serra on top of him, naked as she could get, her breath warm on his ear as she begged him to make love to her?

No. There was no way this was real.

Mal decided that was a good working theory, and when her mouth closed on his again he returned her kiss with gusto.

Shàng dì, she tasted just as good as he remembered. Mal pulled his hands free of hers, finding it was easy to do when he really wanted to, and he stroked the sides of her rib cage lightly. He felt her shudder at the electric heat his touch set loose on her slightly altered senses, and it was like he was feeling it himself.

She pulled back and patted his cheek, and there was something wild and free in her face that he'd never seen before. "Good captain," she said with a smile, then she pulled his shirt open in one hard tug, sending buttons flying. She laid down against him, pressed her body against his with a heavy sigh, and it felt so gorram good that he thought maybe it wasn't a dream after all. He'd imagined how she must feel plenty of times, but it'd never been like this. It had never been quite this good.

Inara kept herself still, relishing the sensations that physical contact brought. She was so close to him she could feel his lungs filling with air and his heart racing. His hands rested gently at her waist – not holding her, not pushing her away, but somewhere in between.

"Inara…." His voice came out thick and breathy and faint, like he wasn't so convinced of what he was saying.. "I shouldn't… We can't just…"

He was still thinking too much; she couldn't allow that. She slid down his body, kissing her way along his neck, chest, and stomach, then she opened his pants and pulled them down over his hips. She wanted to get his body committed to this before his mind got in the way. His hands hovered tentatively over her head as her mouth closed over him, as if he still couldn't decide whether to encourage or stop her. Finally, his fingers settled into her hair, resting lightly at first, then starting to clench. She laced her fingers in his and pulled his hands away; she meant to be the one setting the pace.

Inara smiled as much as was able, given what she was doing. Mal was experiencing something rare: a fully trained Companion pushed beyond her own control. She made full use of her skills, but was guided by her own desire rather than education or logic. She didn't need to look up at his face; she intuitively read him by the muscles that clenched in his stomach and thighs, and from the short gasping grunts that escaped him. Every move of her lips and tongue vibrated through him, and within seconds she had an understanding of his body that most lovers take years to achieve. Like a master cellist coaxing a Bach sonata out of a battered old cello.

Inara's mouth left him and her head fell onto his hip, and she shook with laughter.

"Wha-?" Mal lifted his head to look at her, his face an odd mix of desperate lust and boyish confusion.

"Would you be offended if I compared this to playing a battered old cello?" she asked.

"Hunh?" Mal whined in a strained voice, sounding near tears. She smiled and reached out to touch his flushed cheek. "What're you…" he stammered, then, "I ain't old!"

He looked so genuinely offended that she had to laugh again. "Older than your years," she said, wiping the sweat off his brow. "And you're certainly quite battered." She found a faded scar on his hip and kissed it, then took his erection in her hand. His head fell back again and he moaned at her touch. She trailed kisses over his stomach, so light that she tickled him and the muscles under his skin twitched.

"Well built, though," she continued, enjoying the analogy. "Good tone." She paused at his belly button. "Lovely timbre." Her mouth traveled over his heaving ribs. "Deep resonance." She closed her mouth on his nipple, grazing the nub with her teeth. He gasped and arched his back. "See what I mean?" she said as she smiled up at him, but he wasn't paying much attention to her words. Almost too late, she realized what she was feeling in her busy hand, and that pulled her to her senses, at least regarding one important matter.

She lifted herself to her knees over the top of him, pinning his hands beside his head and otherwise not touching him at all.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, his eyes heavy with need. But he didn't make a move to stop her. She smiled. That was nice of him; she really did want to do the driving here.

"I'm afraid I'm too good at my art," she said. "I need you to last a little longer."

"Nara, I can't…"

She looked down between their bodies, things were indeed dire. That was no good. She looked back at his face and put on a plastic smile. "Don't you think Jayne looked well today?" she said lightly.

"Gah!" Mal's eyes opened wide in disbelief.

"I think he even washed his t-shirt. Such a shame – Jayne can smell sooo good."

"What the hell're you – "

"Oh! Did I tell you what I read on the cortex the other day? Hemlines are lower this season!"

He was squirming beneath her. "You are evil. Mean, horrible, shòu xìng woman…" His hands strained against hers, but not enough to break free.

"Longer, fuller skirts are the thing. Isn't that wonderful?" She glanced down his body again. Not quite so dire.

"I say evil already? Vicious, cruel, heartless, gorram banshee..."

"And as for hairstyles – "

He raised his head and his eyes focused on her intently. "Don't you dare – don't you dare talk to me bout hair."

His fingers were gripping hers, and Inara decided she better gets things moving again. After all, it was quite possible to push a man like Mal too far. The thought made her pause; it was tempting to see what he'd do. But she wasn't ready to give up control. Not yet.

She shushed him with a smile, "Shhh. No more talk. Why don't you help me with this." Slowly, she moved his hands to her hips and positioned herself. He guided her down, and relief spread over his face as he slid into her.

Once she was settled, she folded her legs tight against his sides and leaned forward to press her body against his. The heat came back. She'd been enjoying the seduction (and un-seduction) game so much that she'd forgotten about her own augmented senses, the flames that shot into her skin wherever he touched her. Now that she focused on it, it rose again. She didn't want to move; she could have laid against him, completely still, for … well, for a good minute. Okay, maybe half a minute.

Mal wasn't so patient. With a whimper he tried to thrust up into her, so she reached down, put her hands on his hips to hold him still. She wanted to whisper dull useless comments in his ear, to try to distract him with nonsense again, but her mind wasn't working that well anymore.

"No, not yet," she whispered. "Not yet."

The heat grew with every little sound that vibrated in Mal's chest. It blazed high enough to completely shut down her brain when he brought his lips up to her ear and whispered, "Inara, please…" She could do nothing in response but close her mouth over the side of his neck, biting down on his skin to keep herself from saying too much.

He took that as permission. He rolled them both over, keeping his body tight against her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him – she felt surrounded by Mal. Inside and out, pressed against every part of him she could reach and enclosed by him in return.

She squeezed her eyes closed, expecting him to finish them both off quickly. But he didn't move, and she opened her eyes again in surprise. His face was hovering inches above hers, eyes burning. He slid his hands into her hair, holding her so she couldn't look away. His grip shifted against her head, changing again and again as if he was trying to memorize the shape of her skull.

"You here?" he asked, his voice thick. "You really here with me?"

She raised her hands to his face, wiping the sweat back. His eyes, deep and dark and fixed on her, looked wet. She pulled him down to her, kissed each eyelid, and tasted salt on her lips. She knew she was lost. It wasn't the drug haze; she loved this man and he loved her in return. She'd known for some time, but it never broke her heart more than it did right now. Because it was so good, but it never would work. It was impossible.

But that was a matter for later, not now.

"I'm here, Mal."

"This is real?"

She nodded, feeling tears well in her own eyes. "Real. I promise."

"Good."

He leaned down, let his lips brush hers in a ghost of a kiss that brought her back to her body, reminded her of the searing heat, of his hardness inside her and the solid weight of his chest above her. He began pulsing his hips, his eyes holding hers, and the fire spread out from her core to meet the blaze in her skin. Her mouth fell open; she wanted to tell him, to make him move faster, but her mind wouldn't make the words. He knew anyway. He sped up, but braced himself on one elbow so he could reach one hand down to where their bodies joined, watching the reaction on her face as he pressed against her sensitive flesh.

It wasn't long before her head fell back and she cried out, cresting in a blaze that should have withered her flesh and charred her bones. She was still floating on a sea of flame when she felt him bury his face in her neck and follow her over.

It took some time for Mal to return to himself. He was laying on his side, and Inara was in his arms, pressed tight up against him. She seemed to have found a state of molten bliss, one that he remembered well. She didn't respond when he rolled away from her to finish removing his clothes – his pants were still caught about his knees.

Once he was naked, he lifted her carefully and carried her to the bed. He set her down, and she melted into the blanket as if she was more fluid than human. He found the cloth he had dropped earlier, rinsed if it off in the now tepid bowl of water, and carefully wiped the sweat from her body. He had to smile at how she reacted to his touch, pulling to him without waking enough to realize she was doing it. Eventually, she opened her eyes and reached her arms out to him, and he dropped the cloth in the bowl and stretched out beside her.

She fit herself against him, looking so satisfied, so sated. He felt that tightness in his gut again, that need to keep her safe and happy. He wanted to take care of her. She had such a lovely heart, and was so generous with it; he wanted to make sure no one ever took advantage of that again. He began placing light kisses along her jaw.

"Stop," she whispered.

He grinned and continued. "Make me."

"No really, stop." She spoke louder this time, like she meant it.

He pulled away. "Are you… is this okay?"

"No, it's not," she shook her head, eyes still closed. "Not okay."

He drew himself up on an elbow to look at her, afraid she'd open her eyes and he'd see distance there, and maybe something worse. Regret. But she smiled, and when she looked at him her eyes were smiling too.

"Mal, if you get me going again, I might hurt you."

"Really?" he asked, unable to hold back an eager grin.

She tried to roll away, but he grabbed her and pulled her under him. "I'm not kidding," she insisted. "Time to sleep. Second pill."

Her hands gripped his upper arms, trying weakly to hold him away. Her breath was starting to come fast and shallow. Mal liked that reaction, he liked it a lot, but he had to remind himself that this wasn't about him. He escaped from her grip enough to kiss the tip of her nose. Despite her words, she tried to tilt her head back and turn it into a real kiss.

"Just followin' orders," he told her as he slipped away.

He found the box in the cabinet where he'd left it and picked out a pill, then paused as something occurred to him. He turned back to the bed. Inara was stretched out long, her eyes closed and hair wild, looking sultry enough to knock the breath out of him. He wiped a hand over his face; he should have covered her up. It was a difficult thing to see her looking like that and not be able to act on it. How bad could she hurt him, really?

_It ain't about what you want,_ he reminded himself, _it's about helping her. Whatever she needs._

He walked back to the bed and sat next to her, then held the little pill up.

"So, my lovely Miss Serra, I'm guessin' that you knew what this would do to you."

She opened her eyes and her face lit with a guilty smile, like a child who'd been caught in a clever prank.

"Yes, I did."

"So you knew that, uh, you and me, we'd…"

"I had a feeling. I didn't think you'd mind." Her heavy eyes focused on him; it seemed to require some effort. "Do you mind?"

"No, I ain't complainin'. I just… " He had to stop and think about it. So she'd decided on this before she took the drug. That was good. That was very good.

Then something else occurred to him. He looked at the pill again.

"You told me you took one of these on my ship before."

"Mm-hmm."

"And you had to deal with this, uh, reaction… by yourself?" When she didn't answer, he leaned over her sleepy face, blew a stream of air on her neck, then whispered against her skin. "You should'a let me know. We could'a done this a long time ago."

She smiled lazily, her eyes closed as she put a hand on his shoulder to weakly hold him close. "I meant to… deal with it myself, but I didn't."

Mal sat up and made a face. It wasn't a happy face.

"Simon?"

"No. It was before Simon and River joined _Serenity_. Right before."

Mal made another face, unable to hold back disgust. "Jayne?"

Inara stretched, eyes still closed, not noticing his expression. "Actually, Kaylee."

"Um… Could you clarify that?"

She opened her eyes, smiled gently at him. "Kaylee noticed I didn't seem well, and stopped in to check on me."

Mal had to make himself shut his mouth. "You mean… you and Kaylee... you're _lovers_?"

"No, nothing like that." She lazily slapped a hand against his arm, though she missed and hit his thigh instead. "Not everyone takes sex as seriously as you do. I was hurting. I needed help. She happened by and helped me. Mostly we talked, but she helped out a little with other things."

_Kinda like I just did?_ he thought.

"It was the drug," she continued. "It was only sex." Her voice trailed off in contentment, but her hand stayed on his thigh. "Speaking of which…"

Mal felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. _It was only sex._

He pushed her hand off his leg, and turned his back to her. _It was the drug. It was only sex._ He turned to glance at her once, at her hair spread around her head, her face peaceful and eyes closed. She was completely unaware of his reaction, and he was grateful for that. He didn't want her seeing this. He felt idiot enough already.

_Not everyone takes sex as seriously as you do._

"I'll just… I'll just get you some water," he said, and picked up the glass from where it sat on the floor.

He took his time refilling it, trying to pull himself together. What in the hell did he expect? He had no sense when it came to Inara. He was a gorram fool. Of course it was just sex.

But she was hurting bad, that was for real. This woman who spent her life trying to be a comfort to others, and never had anyone to take care of _her_. And he'd done nothing but let her down. Hell, he'd hurt her himself more times than he could remember. But not this time – if a warm body was all she needed, then that's what he'd be. Wasn't like it was an unpleasant chore. He tried to smile at the thought, but it wasn't all that funny.

After she took the pill, Inara reached for him.

"Remember the hurtin' me part?" he said as lightly as he could.

"I'll be asleep soon," she said, "I can't hurt you that badly."

_No worse than you already have_, he thought, and immediately regretted it. He shouldn't blame her for this. It was his own foolish expectations, thinking that bedding a drugged Companion was something verse shattering.

He let her pull him down to lay on his side facing her. She ran her hands over him lazily, possessively, then finally reached one hand between them and found him ready again. His body certainly had no problem with this arrangement.

She stroked him gently. "Be inside me," she whispered.

Mal pulled her closer and lifted one of her legs over his hip, then slid into her. And Yesu if that didn't feel just as good as it had before. He could almost forget that it didn't mean anything.

They moved together slowly, languidly. After a while Inara fell still, so Mal did too, except for one thumb that moved against the back of her neck.

"Keep me wrapped up," she said, her voice fading. "All wrapped up in Mal…" He did as she asked, holding her there until she was limp in his arms.

He waited until her breath deepened, then rolled onto his back, slipping out of her warmth. Unfinished – but the lack of physical satisfaction was the least of hiw worries.

She still had her head on his shoulder and a leg across his hips, and he stroked the slender arm that stretched across his chest. She needed physical contact. She'd had a world of hurt; he suspected it was more than she'd owned up to, and now she had a powerful need to feel safe. He could do that for her.

But his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.

_It was only sex._

He was seeing the look in her eyes when she promised him it was real. Feeling the touch of her lips on his eyelids. The pull of her hands in his hair as her body strained against his. Had all that been so hollow? Just a sensation, ready for anyone who happened into her shuttle on this particular night?

_I was hurting. I needed help. It was only sex._

The gorram drug, making her so open, so needy. Making him think it was something it wasn't. He closed his eyes, wishing he was anywhere but here.

"Mal?" His name floated up as a long breathy sigh without voice.

"What?" he asked softly.

Her warm breath tickled his sternum as she whispered, "I love you."

He started and looked down at her, not sure he'd heard that right. Her eyes were closed, lashes laying long against her cheeks, her face slack with sleep. Then her mouth curved slightly in an easy smile and he saw her lips move when she whispered again, "I love you."

Her arms were weak but tried to tighten around him. Mal helped, turning toward her again and pulling her so close that he wasn't sure she'd be able to breathe. She didn't complain, just tucked her head under his chin and placed a few soft kisses on his chest before she went limp again.

He hoped she was too deep in slumber to notice when he raised a hand to wipe at his cheek. Crying. Gorram. Hadn't done that since before the war.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
bēi wēi: petty and low  
chuái shī shŏu: fat ugly corpse  
húndàn: bastard  
āi yā: damn  
dăi húndàn: evil bastard  
năo huŏ: annoying  
dăi: evil  
gōu shī: crap  
réncí de Fozu: merciful Buddha  
yìqĭ shènhùxì. let's take a deep breath  
shă guā: idiot  
dè le: that's enough  
wŏ de mā: holy mother of god  
shàng dì: God  
shòu xìng: brutal


	9. Part 9 of 9

**Easy Tickets: Part 9/9 (Chapter 25 and Epilogue)**

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,  
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

Prepare yourself: this last part's got a little more sex, a little more angst,  
a little more cheese, and not much closure. :)

* * *

Chapter 25.

Mal woke up feeling alone, his arms empty. It took him a few moments to realize why that bothered him – it wasn't like he woke up with company often.

When he recognized the smell of incense and the softness of the sheets, he remembered, and he felt warmth in the bed behind him. He rolled over to find Inara lying on her back. He brushed her hair away from her neck; she was so deeply asleep that she didn't stir. She looked perfect, flawless. Her skin glowed with youth and health; her lips were just barely parted to show the pearly gleam of her teeth, and the soft arch of her eyebrows reflected the curve of her closed lashes. It was as if she were a painting, every line and nuance of shading carefully planned to captivate. Even her breathing was pleasing – soft and deep and barely audible. It didn't change at all when he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek.

She was enjoyable to look at, no mistake about that, but as he continued to watch her he realized that something bothered him. He wondered if this was something she'd learned at the Academy. Maybe there was a course called Basic Sleeping: How to be Enticing while Unconscious; How to not Disturb a Client's Valuable Rest.

The perfection was something constructed around the outside of the Inara he knew. There was a real woman in there, one who swore and lost her temper and even went so far as to say the wrong thing now and then. Mal had been lucky enough to see that woman on several occasions, though he might not have called it luck at the time. He smiled at her sleeping face; she did have a sharp tongue, and an uncanny ability to see through him, to say things that made him feel downright foolish. But the real Inara was more than that; she was deeply caring. She was always there when one of his crew was troubled, quietly providing reassurance and comfort. She nurtured the people around her because that's just who she was. The Inara Serra he knew liked people more than she liked money. The clients who paid so much for a few hours of her flawless company never saw that.

The thought of clients made his stomach feel sour, and Mal avoided thinking about it. He had no wish to ruin the moment. Instead, he wondered if he'd get to see more of the real Inara. He pictured her, lying on her side, deep asleep, mouth hanging slack and nose buzzing. Maybe even a little spot of drool on the pillow. He smiled again and ran his thumb lightly over the perfect corner of her mouth. It'd be good to see her like that. It'd give him an excuse to wake her up. He wouldn't mind if she was awake right now.

He slid closer and wrapped himself around her. She was soft and compliant, molding herself to him in her sleep. He closed his eyes and savored her warmth and the way her body responded to his touch, settling into him like she'd been waiting for him to provide his limbs as her personal pillows and blankets.

Awake Inara would be all kinds a' fun, but sleeping Inara wasn't too bad either.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë's curiousity was piqued when Mal didn't show for breakfast. Inara's seat was conspicuously empty as well, but Zoë kept her guesses to herself; however things were going with the captain, he wouldn't want it a topic of discussion for the whole crew.

Mal finally showed a few hours later, just as Wash began to warm up Shuttle Two. Zoë was herding Jase, Bucky and Xiaojun along the catwalk when the captain caught up, passing by Zoë so he could say a friendly goodbye to his guests. Zoë watched without comment - Mal was remarkably cheerful, she might even have called him perky if she'd dared to say it out loud. It warmed her, seeing him like that. It'd been a long damn time. If she'd been the hugging type, she'd be thinking about giving Inara a big hug.

When the three passengers finally disappeared into the shuttle, Mal turned back to Zoë.

"Well then," he said. "You just take your time, make sure our guests are settled in nice and cozy."

"Why, what a good mood you're in, sir."

"No, I'm not," he said, though his grin looked about ready to split his face in half. "There ain't no good moods that need explainin' here. I'm just my usual grumpy self."

Zoë gave him a doubtful look. "Captain, in that case it's my duty to know all the details behind whatever got you into this 'bad' mood. For safety. Can't be havin' a captain off his rocker."

"Now, Zoë, there you go oversteppin' your bounds again. You should know by now that a captain don't kiss and tell."

"Oh – so there was kissin'?" Zoë arched a brow at him.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Mal put a hand on her shoulder and shoved her toward the shuttle. "Go on and take care a' that bum of a husband. He's like to get his ears talked off."

Zoë stepped through the hatch, but had to take a parting shot. "Will do, Cap'n. And you go on and take care a' that bad mood. I hear a morning tumble'll do wonders for it." She pulled the hatch closed behind her before Mal could reply.

.*. .*. .*.

Bucky left the husband and wife team to handle Xiaojun's questions. The old woman had taken the co-pilot's seat and seemed intent on discussing every button and indicator on the console. Wash handled the largely one-sided conversation with good cheer, and Zoë stood behind the chair, staring out the window with a distant smile. She looked to be in a much better mood than when Bucky'd first met her, but he still preferred to stay out of her way. That pilot was a brave man.

He went into the main room of the shuttle and took a seat next to Jase, who was slouching on a bench, looking bored. Bucky didn't know what to say; he'd never been one to spend a lot of time around kids, and the smiling boy he'd known nine years ago was nothing like the teen sitting here moping. Truthfully, he was greatly relieved that these people had agreed to take Xiaojun along; he was going to need the help.

He'd tried talking casual to Jase a few times, but the kid hadn't been responsive. Bucky just didn't anything interesting to sat. So maybe it was best to give up on light chatter and get the hard stuff out of the way.

"Sometime, I need to explain some things to you," Bucky said quietly.

"What kind'a things?" Jase asked, not sounding eager.

"Some stuff bout Ray."

Jase stuck out his jaw a little, like he was clenching his teeth. "I don't wanna know nothin' more. He's gone."

"That's the truth," Bucky said. He found himself staring at Jase, who didn't seem to appreciate it. But he couldn't help it - the kid had been keeping to himself, and Bucky hadn't gotten a good look at him all cleaned up.

"Did you know that you look like your mom?" he asked.

Jase looked down and fidgeted with his sling that held his left arm. "Ray used to say that a lot."

"I think that's why he was so hard on you."

"He hated her, didn't he?"

"No. No, I don't think so. I think he loved her, in his own way. She didn't love him back is all, and he didn't handle that so well." Bucky smiled as he thought about her. He hadn't had a lot of time with Mĕi, but he could recall every minute of what there had been. "She was quite a woman, your Ma. Beautiful as they come. And she had a kindness to her, a way about everything she did."

Jase looked at him. "Are you… you're really my Pa, ain't ya?"

Bucky hadn't been expecting this question, but he was glad of it. He hadn't come up with a smooth way of telling Jase the truth; it helped that the boy already knew. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I am."

Jase looked away and didn't answer, and Bucky couldn't tell what he was thinking. He sighed; a hint would have been nice. This was the crappy part of it – he was the adult here, no matter that he had no idea what he was doing. It was his job to sort this out. At least to make the effort, best as he knew how.

"Look, Jase, I don't know much bout kids… I mean, bout teens. Been a long time since I was one myself, and the world has moved on a bunch since then. Hell, I just known em for how they act in the city. Always tryin' to steal stuff and makin' a nuisance of themselves. Sayin' stuff as makes no sense. I suppose you might be like that."

It wasn't clear that Jase was even listening. Certainly, he didn't look interested. But this needed to be said.

"I'll tell you this though," Bucky continued, "I'll never raise a hand against you. Don't matter what kind'a trouble you find. And even if I get mad, I won't yell. That's not how I go about things. Never was."

Damned kid didn't make a single sign that he cared, but Bucky didn't give up.

"I guess I'm sayin' that I know it's just the nature of a sixteen year old to mess up and be a pest sometimes, but don't worry yourself bout it. Go on ahead."

There was still no response. Bucky considered backing off. He sat silent for a while, looking toward the bridge, at the view outside that changed from black to blue as they approached their new home.

How the hell could he get through to this boy?

"I guess… you know, heck, it might help if I had a name I could call ya when you do something harebrained. Like a code word. You got any ideas?"

That got a reaction. Jase turned his head and looked at Bucky with his face all screwed up in confusion, like he was thinking _you are one crazy old man._

Bucky smiled as he continued. "Maybe… you remember the squirrels that ran around Before? How they'd fight over somethin', and they'd be runnin' all over, jumpin' through the trees, makin' noise. I could call you sōng shŭ when you start actin' like a silly kid. How bout that?"

Jase snorted a short laugh, and Bucky thought he'd scored a point. But then Jase said with a roll of his eyes, "That's so stupid."

He looked so much like a normal kid that Bucky didn't mind being stupid. "See, that's exactly what I mean," he said with a grin that might have been too big, but he couldn't help it. "I got no idea bout anything, so it's good I have you to let me know, or I'll just talk like a gorram fool all the time."

He thought maybe they had a conversation going, but Jase went and looked down at the deck again.

"So, you got any better ideas?" Bucky asked.

Jase kept looking down for awhile, and Bucky made himself wait. He just watched, saw how gradually Jase's head slumped forward and his shoulders came up round his ears, almost like he was trying to disappear inside himself. When Jase did answer, it was in quiet voice, and he didn't look up.

"How bout you don't call me names?"

_Gorammit, Ray, what'd you do to this kid?_ Bucky thought, and he had to take a deep breath before he replied. "Okay. Okay, I won't."

Jase didn't answer. Bucky decided that he needed to push this. "Jase, look at me."

But he still looked down at his lap.

"Come on, look at me."

Jase finally did, and Bucky held that icy green stare. "I won't. Not ever."

For a second the stare stayed frozen, but then it was transformed when Jase smiled and nodded. His shoulders relaxed and he looked toward the chatter coming from the cockpit.

"She told me you were okay," he said.

"Who did?"

When he didn't get an answer, Bucky guessed. "You mean that River gal, huh?"

Jase nodded, and Bucky saw the smile widen behind a sheet of black hair.

"She said I was okay?"

Jase nodded again, and Bucky had to laugh, feeling a little relieved, although he wasn't likely to see the girl ever again. She had a scary edge to her.

"That's funny," he said. "I got the feelin' she didn't like me much."

"She said she checked you out, that you were… safe."

"She did?" The shuttle bumped a bit and Bucky glanced toward the windows, they were passing through a thick bank of clouds. "She seemed a bit of an odd one."

Jase looked up at him and answered quickly, defensively. "She wasn't."

Bucky was surprised by the boy's suddenly forceful tone. "Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' a little odd, Jase," he said. "It's a helluva lot more interestin' then bein' just like everyone else, don't you think?"

Jase thought about it, then looked at Bucky and nodded.

"She liked you, huh?" Bucky asked, and he saw the blush rush into Jase's cheeks before he turned away.

"You kiss her?"

Jase was bright red now.

"Now, you see there?" Bucky said, pleased at his guess. "I ain't so clueless after all, huh?"

Jase looked at the cockpit windows, and he sighed. "I wish she could'a come here with us," he said softly.

Couldn't hurt to be hopeful. "Maybe she'll visit sometime."

"Hope so."

.*. .*. .*.

When Wash called them forward to the cockpit, Zoë stood aside and Jase leaned over the console so he could see the land rolling by beneath them.

Green – there was green everywhere. As the ground came closer, he saw a big clearing in the woods, and in the center was a cluster of wooden houses. They looked small from this far up, but he could tell that they were really big compared to the people walking next to them. Lots of people, and a good half of them with black hair, just like his. There was a wide open grassy area next to the houses, and a group of people were chasing a white ball around, kicking it toward one of the big wooden squares set at either end of the field.

Out past the game were fields of crops, neatly plowed in straight lines. Long narrow channels led from a nearby river to bring water. Some of the fields were flooded, and Jase knew what that was. Ma had told him about rice, about how she'd worked as a girl on those tender green shoots. He'd always wondered how plants grew in so much water.

When they landed next to the playing field, the game stopped so the people could come and see the shuttle. A lot of them were his age, and they looked awed by the ship coming down from the clouds, like such a sight was something special.

Jase smiled as he followed Bucky and Xiaojun to the door, ready to go out and meet everyone.

.*. .*. .*.

Ginger had plenty of time to think while confined to her quarters. Her stay in the Alliance infirmary had been short; she'd woken up there, but only stayed long enough for the doctors to check her for injuries. She'd tried to tell them that she was fine – nothing had happened to her but the shock that knocked her out, and she got over that fast.

She remembered exactly how the folks on that Firefly had gotten to her. That witch played her, and it had to have been the harmless looking mechanic that took her out.

Ginger hadn't been real smart about the people on the ship, and she'd had nothing to do but ponder her mistakes in the long empty hours that passed between debriefings. After she'd told her tale several times, leaving out some small details that might have gotten her and Will in trouble, her superiors filled her in on how things had ended.

Luckily, Ginger hadn't messed up the mission. The Firefly had gotten to the harvester, loaded it onboard, and been sitting pretty when the Alliance showed up to catch Ray red-handed. They'd even made use of the evidence Ginger provided, using logs of her calls to link Beyla Skuld to the hijacking. Despite Ginger's embarrassing early exit from the action, the mission had been a big success. And hell – she'd lasted longer than Will.

After all the talking was over, Ginger'd had a few days with nothing to do but chew on the details of the job, and she found that some things weren't sitting right with her. She kept remembering how she'd found that captain all tied up, and how the mechanic had acted like her heart was broken up at the sight. She thought about the doctor getting beat – he may have started that fight, but it was on account of what Will'd said about the mechanic, about finding _uses_ for her.

Recalling those words made Ginger think again about the things the other lady'd said, the one who'd cleaned Will's clock.

After Ginger thought about those things for awhile, she thought back on other jobs. She'd been operating undercover with Will since the war, and there was a pattern that she'd never taken the time to notice before. The man had a history of messing with people. He never got in trouble for it, cause it was always in the line of duty, but it was odd how often his attacks on their targets went wide of the mark. It was also odd how he was always so cheery right in the middle of a job, when things were rough and folks were going down. Almost like he enjoyed it.

Ginger started getting a little upset with herself for not seeing it before. Somehow, she'd never considered it her business. She hadn't joined the military out of any moral obligation or sense of duty; she'd done it because shooting was all she was good at. But she only used her skills when the mission called for them; she wasn't cruel, she wasn't a bully, and she'd always taken some satisfaction in thinking that the verse was a better place because of what she did.

But, in this case, Ginger started thinking that the mechanic hadn't deserved what she'd been put through. Neither had the captain. The fancy lady? Ginger even starting having doubts about that, on account of some facts she'd heard about the woman.

Finally, the brass closed the case and gave her leave to talk to Will. He was still in the ship's infirmary, in a small private room, and he glowered at her around a bandage on his nose as soon as he saw her.

She came up next to the bed, looking closely at his glum face. She wondered how she'd ever found him attractive. It wasn't the injuries that ruined his appeal; it was his expression. Despite his handsome face and solid build, Will looked more like a spoiled boy than a man. Which was scary, considering the power he had over people's lives, operating out here in the Black with no superiors around to keep him in line.

"Are you here to have a laugh?" he asked sullenly.

"What, you gettin' a hard time?"

He didn't answer. Ginger knew the word had gotten out that Will had met his match – in the form of a woman who weighed about half what he did and made love for a living, and he had to be catching flak over it.

"Did you know she's a Companion?" Ginger asked.

"Who?"

"The one that took you out."

He frowned at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm just sayin' – it wasn't real smart of you to try rapin' a Companion."

"Who said I did anything like that?" he asked, and his mouth fell open in poorly acted shock.

Ginger just glared at him, her jaw stiffening at his obvious lie.

"Oh, come on," he said, seeing her doubt. "I just played with her a bit. If she's a whore, she has to be used to much worse."

Ginger shook her head, feeling ashamed that what Will'd just said was so close to what she'd told the Companion. Ginger may have come from the edge of nowhere, but she'd had plenty of leave time in the Core. She knew the difference between a whore and a Companion. One was trash who'd spread her legs to anyone for some coin, while the other put in a lot of years hard work learning her trade. Ginger had seen some of those ladies, seen the ones who were old and not so pretty anymore, but they carried themselves like they owned the world and men shut up when they talked. A woman like that had power, power that was earned. Ginger respected that. It didn't mean she liked the trash-talking sāobī on that ship, but it did make her look at Will in a new light.

"You ain't foolin' me," she told him. "You tried to rape that woman, and you tortured that man. You used the cable on the console, didn't you? Fried him?"

Will's eyes narrowed, but he didn't deny it. "He's just a Browncoat. His hands are as dirty as anyone we go after – "

"That don't matter. The folks on that ship weren't the ones we were out to get. Weren't even criminals – they just got caught up in it by chance."

Will laughed like she was a stupid little girl. "Ah, Ginger. Honey. You've never been a bright bulb, but you can't be dumb enough to think that those people are upstanding citizens."

"That ain't the point. You're real lucky that woman didn't tell the Lieutenant what you were up to with her, or you'd be in the brig right now. And you know what? I'm startin' to think you'd deserve it." That was the truth; Ginger regretted covering for Will. Maybe she ought to have told the truth about some of the things that had gone down.

Will's face set in an ugly scowl like he knew what she was thinking, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Though he was laying in a hospital bed with a bruised body and bandages on his face, Ginger took a cautious step back. When he spoke, his voice was low and quiet, but fierce.

"Now, you listen up, Ginger Larkin. You think you're high-and-mighty, but I know better. I know where you came from. You're slime that crawled out of a swamp, and the only reason you haven't been sent back is because you happen to be decent with a gun. But don't think for a second that anything you have to say will stand up against me." He snorted scornfully and looked her up and down. "You've been known as a freak since before the war. Half the force figures you use that rifle to diddle yourself, and I wouldn't be surprised. Have you ever wondered why you never move up in rank? There's a damn good reason. You're garbage, and everyone knows it. You just try telling anyone about what happened on that ship and see what happens to you."

Ginger took another step back. She shook her head, but she made no denials. Every word he'd just said was true; well, except for the diddlin' thing. It burned her to hear all the rest of it said out loud.

Will settled back down on the bed, his face relaxing into a smile as he put his arms behind his head to show how at ease he was, though it must have hurt his beaten body to do it. She realized that she couldn't fight him outright. He knew it, and Ginger knew it too. She'd been keeping herself to herself for too long, and there was no way anyone would take her at her word now.

Her helplessness made her fume inside. He couldn't win so easy, it wasn't right.

"I got this feelin', Will," she told him. "I got his feelin' that I don't need to tell. You're gonna do yourself in. Man like you just gathers trouble, and it'll keep heaping up on your head. You'll mess with the wrong folks one day, and you'll find your end. And I'll be laughin' when you do."

"I doubt it," he said with a grin. "If I go down, you'll go with me. You're on my squad because there's no one else who'll take you in, and I'd like to see you try and make it outside the military." He laughed at the idea. "Good lord, what a joke that would be. Ginger without her gun."

He was still laughing when she turned and left the room.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara woke up feeling alone. She knew without checking that her bed was empty; there was a coldness that she understood before she was fully awake. She stretched her arms out to her sides; there wasn't even a trace of warmth left. He'd been gone for a while.

She didn't have time to dwell on her disappointment before she heard a small sound and opened her eyes. Mal was sitting on the divan across the room. He didn't realize that she was awake, just sat playing with the calligraphy set she'd left out the night before.

She laid still and watched him. His brows were drawn together as he concentrated on the parchment, the quill moving slowly. She smiled when his jaw fell open and pulled sideways, as if contorting his face would have some effect on the quill's motion. He moved his arm to start a new stroke, then abruptly lifted his hand with a frown.

"Fuckin' fuck. Fuck," he whispered, still staring at the parchment.

"It doesn't help," Inara said, and Mal looked up at her. "I've tried every bad word there is," she continued, "in six different languages. The quill is deaf."

He grinned at her and dropped the quill. "I'm glad it ain't just me."

They looked at each other for a while. Inara wasn't sure how to talk to him, and, to be truthful, she didn't want to try. She just wanted to savor the moment. It might have to last her a long, long time.

"How you feelin'?"

"Rested."

He rose from the divan and walked toward the bed. He was fully dressed: boots, tan pants, a plain black shirt under his suspenders. He looked like the cool, distant captain she was accustomed to, and for a moment she wondered if the night before had really happened. He sat down on the edge of the bed, but didn't make a move to touch her. Inara hesitated, then finally worked up the nerve to lay a hand on his arm.

"Mal – "

That was enough. He met her eyes and then he was leaning down for a soft good morning kiss. When he tried he part her lips with his, Inara pulled away and put a hand over her mouth, suddenly conscious that she hadn't brushed her teeth the night before.

"I must be disgusting," she said. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Too long," he said, not letting her slide away from him. "I've been waitin' for hours."

He tried to kiss her again, but she pulled free and sat up. "Mal, just let me – "

He rolled onto her, pushing her back down and gently grabbing her wrists. Slowly, deliberately, he pinned her hands beside her. Inara tried to keep her mouth shut when his lips touched hers, but she couldn't resist the temptation. And so he kissed her, long and slow and deep, and she let herself forget her morning mouth and messy hair, and the reality she knew was waiting. She allowed herself to enjoy him for just for a little longer.

He finally pulled away, and then smacked his lips thoughtfully. "You taste fresh as roses," he declared.

She smiled hopefully. "Really?"

"Nah. Actually, you're kind'a stale." He made a face and a small shudder.

Inara felt herself blushing. "Mal, I can just – "

"It's all right – I like that you ain't perfect. Got morning breath just like the rest of us."

He kissed her again, just a short one, then sat up, pulling her with him. "All right, enough a' that. I ain't touchin' you again till you freshen up."

Inara slid out from under the covers and stood up, naked as she'd been the night before. "You have so much will power?" she asked.

He grinned as his eyes traveled over her. "Nope."

Inara wasn't one to be self-conscious about nudity, but being naked in front of Mal was a challenge. She was very aware of every bit of her exposed skin, of the heat of Mal's stare, and it distracted her. She pulled her robe from the corner of her bed and grabbed a clean set of underwear from a drawer before she went into the head.

When she came back out, freshened and well-ordered with her hair piled on top of her head, Mal was stretched out on the bed staring at the ceiling, his booted feet hanging down over the edge of it. She pulled the sash on her robe tight and sat down beside his knees to compose her thoughts.

It was time.

"Any regrets?" he asked before she could speak.

He wasn't looking at her when he asked, and she was glad of it. The answer to that question was complicated, and she knew he wouldn't understand the things she couldn't keep out of her face. But she regained control quickly.

"No, I don't regret last night." She reached out to pick up his hand, rubbing his palm with her thumb. _Although I should._ "Do you?"

He rolled his head to the side and looked at her, his expression somewhat guarded. "No."

She continued holding his hand, but looked away. There was no kind way to do what needed to be done, but she delayed anyway, thinking of how best to say it. There had to be some way to soften the pain she was about to cause him.

"You were mighty sleepy last night," he said, his voice holding a note of carelessness that she didn't believe at all.

"I was," she replied neutrally. She didn't want to volunteer any more information until she knew what he meant.

"And, uh, sometimes when a person's that kind'a sleepy, they might say somethin' they don't really mean…"

Inara sighed. She didn't know if it would help or hurt in the long run, but she wasn't going to be untruthful about this. She looked him directly in the eye. "I meant it, Mal."

His guarded look turned to relief as he smiled and looked away. For the life her, he looked shy. "What… exactly'd you mean?"

She looked down at her hands. "I was… a little too asleep to explain, but it occurred to me that what I told you about Kaylee might have made you think… I just wanted you to know that it meant a lot. You being here with me."

"You wanna maybe define 'a lot'?"

She waited until he looked at her before she answered; she wanted to leave him with no doubt. "I love you," she said firmly, and she reached out to touch his face and brush her knuckles through his hair. "I have for a while. I guess that's why I'm so… unkind sometimes. Because I –"

He caught her hand. "Hey. No need for that now. We both said and done things we shouldn't have."

She clenched her jaw and looked away. That was more true than he knew.

"I think you win though," Mal said, and Inara looked at him sharply. He was focused on her hand, which he was now gently kneading. "As far as doing somethin' you should never have done. I'm a little hurt by somethin' in particular."

He looked up at her, and Inara carefully kept her face neutral. "What is that?"

"Actually," he said, "there were two things you done to hurt me real bad."

"Two things?"

"Yep. First of all – you called me _old_. But that I'll let slide cause you were all drugged up, and I'm such a nice guy."

His mouth pulled into a grin. Inara smiled, relieved that he was only teasing her. But she had to look away from the innocent joy in his face. It was as if he were a boy again, in love for the first time.

"That is kind of you," she said. "The other thing?"

"The other thing ain't so easy to pass by," he said, and he pulled her hand to his mouth, bending it back so he could kiss the inside of her wrist. "In fact, I think you're gonna have some makin' up to do."

"Oh, dear," she said, still unable to make herself look at him. "It sounds quite serious."

"It is."

Mal let go of her hand, then reached out to grab her waist and pull her down to the bed, turning her so she was laying on her side facing him.

"You see, Miss Serra, the male ego is a fragile thing. Doin' something like what you did could damage me for the rest of my days."

Inara tipped her head forward, pressing her forehead against his cheek so he couldn't see her eyes. More than anything, she prayed that what he'd just said in jest didn't become the truth.

"Are you going to tell me what this awful thing is?" she asked.

"Even better," he replied, "I'm gonna show you."

Mal pulled her close and nuzzled against her, lightly kissing her neck. His hand ran slowly down her side, along the curve her hip, then reached into her robe to cup her thigh and pull it over his hip.

"Any a'this familiar?"

"Vaguely…" she replied, and she found herself a little breathless.

"How bout this?"

Mal's mouth brushed her neck again, and he pulled her hips tightly against his. Inara gasped at the contact. "I do… I do seem to remember something like this happening," she said, powerless to stop him now.

"Truth of it is… I was in the middle of somethin', and you went and fell asleep." Mal began moving against her, as if to make it clear what he meant. It had the opposite effect; Inara completely lost her train of thought.

"Don't you feel bad about doin' that to me, when I was only tryin' to help you out?" he asked, his lips right against her ear.

"I feel… terrible."

"You should."

Inara pressed her body against his, relishing the hardness of him, the grip of his hand on her hip. Her fingers dug into his upper arms.

"There's no excuse for what I've done," she whispered.

"No excuse at all."

She buried her face against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

He was pulling open the top of her robe now, sliding a hand inside, over the top of her bra, still while moving his hips slowly, almost hypnotically, against her.

"But you're gonna make it up to me?" he asked.

"I wish I could, Mal. I wish like anything I could." Her breath caught in her chest, almost a sob, and Mal stopped moving. She felt his hold on her change. He was trying to push her away, to look at her, to understand what he'd just heard.

She wrapped her arms around him, resisting. As soon as he saw her face, he'd know for certain that something was wrong. And it'd all be over, forever. She'd have to tell him, and the fighting would start again.

"Inara, what are you …"

It turned into something like a wrestling match, Inara holding on, Mal trying to pry his way free. He finally got a grip on her shoulders and pushed her away, and she felt him studying her face.

"What is it?" he asked, and it was the Mal from last night again, ready to comfort her at any cost to himself. She couldn't stand it.

"I'm sorry, Mal. I'm so sorry. I meant it. I love you. But it can't work."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"I have to leave. I have to go back."

He leaned further away from her, the shock on his face looking like the pain of betrayal.

"To the Core?"

She nodded, aware of the tears on her cheeks, but she was past trying to hold them in. "This – you and I – it can't happen. I was wrong to let you think it could. I should have left a long time ago. I shouldn't have done this to you."

Mal stared at her, frozen, then he pushed her away and sat up.

"What – you leavin' right now?"

"Tomorrow, if I can."

He looked down at her, his mouth open in disbelief. "You got a way all planned?"

"The Alliance. I arranged it with them as part of the deal – "

"You knew," he said in disbelief, and he stood up and walked away from the bed. "This whole gorram time! Last night… you knew you were leavin'."

She sat up, wiping at her eyes. There was no way to explain it. He'd never understand.

When she looked up, he met her eyes briefly, then turned away like he couldn't stand the sight of her. "Why?" he asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now," she said lamely.

"Yeah, great. Thanks," he spat angrily, then he took a deep breath to calm himself. He raised a hand to his forehead. "Why do you have to go back?"

"It doesn't matter."

He dropped his hand and turned back to her. "The hell it don't. You tell me you love me, and you sit there fallin' to pieces over leavin', and that don't matter? What the hell is wrong with you?"

_That is the heart of it,_ Inara thought. _I am wrong here. This is wrong._

"You can't change anything, Mal."

He was silent for a while, then he let out a heavy breath, and when he spoke again his voice was softer. He tried to reason with her. "I don't believe that. Whatever it is, we can figure it out. You just gotta talk to me."

"It won't help." Inara pushed a blanket aside and stood up next to the bed, pulling her robe tight and tying the sash.

"How do you know, unless you try?" he asked.

"Fine," she snapped. "Convince me that you'll be here when I return from an appointment, waiting with a smile and open arms. Tell me that every time I take a client you won't make yourself crazy wondering how many times I'm 'doing it' with him, or if I like it better. Make me believe you can handle it."

Mal couldn't meet the challenge. "You don't have to do it anymore…" he said weakly, not looking directly at her.

"I'm a Companion, Mal," she told him angrily. "It's not just what I do. It's who I am. I've worked my whole life to become this. I can't change that just because you ask me to."

"Then change it cause you want to. Because you love me."

She clenched her hands in frustration. "Why can't you understand? I can't just drop everything for you. I'd no longer be _me_, and maybe… maybe I wouldn't be able to love you anymore."

"That's ridiculous."

Inara turned away from him, but Mal walked to her, grabbed her arm and pulled her around so she had to look at him.

"That's insane. You can be whoever you want, do whatever you want. You've got the brains and you sure as hell got the pigheadedness. I think you're just makin' excuses."

"Back off, Mal."

"The hell I will. What ain't you tellin' me?"

"Nothing." She pulled her arms free and walked away, but he followed her.

"Come on, I ain't no genius about readin' people, not like you. But I know you're holdin' back. Now what is it?"

"Don't push me." She didn't recognize her own voice, low and shaking.

"I'll push you all I damn well please."

He grabbed her shoulder, spun her around and shoved her back until she came up against the bulkhead. She put her hands on his chest, trying to push him away, but he didn't budge.

"What is it?" he demanded, "What the hell's got you on the run?"

She tried to twist out of his grasp. "I'm not running… get away… just leave me alone!"

Mal let go of her arms and put his hands over her ears, tilting her head back and forcing her to look up at him. "Not until you talk to me!"

Inara didn't plan on doing it, but the need to get away overpowered her. She bent her arm and drove her elbow into his ribs.

"Oh Gods, Mal!" she gasped as he doubled over. She put her hands over her mouth but stayed where she was, pressed back against the bulkhead, while Mal stumbled back to the divan and sat. He was holding his ribs, but he wasn't winded, just shocked. Possibly even more surprised then she was that it'd gone this far.

Precious Buddha, how could it have gotten so ugly, so quickly?

"Hell," Mal said after a minute, "When a lady says don't push her, I guess I ought'a listen."

Inara felt tears come to her eyes again. Mal was being flippant. She'd convinced him, then. If he was making a joke, it really was over.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

He didn't respond at first, then he smiled – a wry smile that was more a wall than anything else. "No need to be sorry. Guess I needed someone to teach me my manners. My momma would'a caned me."

He stood up, straightening slowly. Then he wiped at his face thoughtfully. "Well, best of luck to you. I'll have Wash let you know when we'll be dockin' with your Alliance taxi service."

Inara watched him turn away, but it was more than she could take.

"Mal, wait!"

She caught up to him by the hatch and grabbed his arm to stop him.

He shook her hand off, his hurt showing in his stance before he turned back to her with his face a cold mask. "What?" he demanded harshly. His mouth was set in a hard line. She wondered if the joyful, caring man who had been here just a few minutes ago still existed. She missed him, already she missed him so much. She raised a hesitant hand to touch his cheek.

"I'm not gone yet."

He looked at her for a moment, and she thought he'd reject her. He had every right to.

"No, I guess you ain't," he finally said.

He grabbed her arms, pushing her back to the bed with a force that almost frightened her. Then he pressed her down into the rumpled blankets and lay on top of her, and his mouth came down on hers, invading her forcefully, almost painfully.

Inara accepted it; she had no will to complain, after the hurt she'd done to him.

But he quickly pulled his mouth away, and dropped his head beside hers, his forehead against her cheek. She felt his warm breath on her collarbone; his breathing gradually slowing as he fought to calm himself. Inara knew the anger he was trying to contain, the need to hurt her for abandoning him as she was. She worked a hand into his hair and tilted her head against his, wishing that she still had the right to soothe his pain. But any words she used now would be an insult, not a balm.

When he raised his head again, Inara didn't meet his eyes. She couldn't stand to see bitterness and hatred from Mal, no matter how much she deserved it. But the touch of his hand on her cheek was light, and when his mouth came down on hers again, it was soft and gentle. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to it, letting him take his time if that's what he wanted.

He shifted slightly to lay beside her, easing his weight off of her body and supporting himself on one elbow. He nibbled at her lips, not advancing, and eventually she understood that he was waiting for her to encourage him, to let him know that she wanted him.

She lifted her head so she could deepen the kiss. Mal reacted immediately, delving into her mouth as one of his knees nudged its way between hers. Then he opened her robe and his hand slid lightly over her stomach and ribs. She kept her eyes closed, still unable to look at him, and in the darkness of her mind it felt like his hands were everywhere at once, wakening and warming her skin. But he didn't go further than that, refusing to take over her body as she wanted him to. She had to show him, to catch one of his hands and guide it to her bra. He understood her meaning, and helped her out of her robe before he pulled the scrap of red lace off of her. He continued kissing her until she pushed his head down to her neck.

He wasn't trying to tease her. Inara knew the language of sex; she'd been trained in every nuance of speaking and listening with the body. She understood that he was letting her guide him, silently offering anything she wanted, in the way and at the pace she preferred. And then she realized that Mal might have given up words, but he was still trying to convince her to stay. With his mouth and his hands and his body, he was offering himself to her.

His mouth closed on her breast, and without her volition her body arched up against him. A small, amazed part of her brain thought about how she'd done the same thing to Mal last night, making his body resonate at her touch, but she hadn't really understood the depth of it until now. It wasn't just her body that trembled beyond her control; his mute offer of love had more power than the most perfectly honed technique, and the sensations it caused shook her mind and soul as well as her body.

She knew that she should stop him, because her answer wasn't going to change, no matter how he made her melt, but she couldn't give this up. It could be her last chance to be pleasured by a man who loved her; there was no place for that in a Companion's life. She lightly laid on hand on the back of his head, applying just the slightest pressure, and he did as she asked. His breath whispered over her stomach, following a trail of light kisses down to where his hands were removing her panties and parting her thighs. She tilted her hips to him as his mouth closed over her.

He knew what she wanted now and took control. His hands grasped her hips, holding her still, forcing her to be patient and wait as he drew it out. She found herself panting and whimpering, trying with the last bit of her will to stop from making promises she couldn't keep. And still she kept her eyes squeezed shut. She put a hand on his head and knew that he was watching her, taking in the way her body writhed and her face twisted with passion, but she couldn't let herself meet those intense blue eyes. It would break her to see that.

Finally, he released her hips and let her move as her body dictated. One of his hands passed over her stomach and breast, then roughly stroked up her neck to the side of her face as the fingers of his other hand pressed into her core.

Another thing Inara knew well was the physical mechanism of an orgasm, but she'd never had her climax tear into her like this one did, making her deaf to the rough cry that came out of her own throat without her control. Mal remained fastened to her as the waves crashed through her repeatedly, and when they finally faded she was left shaking, blinded, and nearly senseless.

Slowly she became aware of Mal lying beside her. She opened her eyes, and was surprised to find him still fully dressed, though a little rumpled. She reached out, determined to satisfy him in return, but Mal caught her hands. He held her wrists until she finally looked at his face. There was a question in his eyes, and she replied with a small shake of her head.

Mal rolled off the bed and left the shuttle without saying a word.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë got the news from Wash; Mal had told the pilot to contact the Alliance ship and set up a rendezvous in the morning. When Wash told her why, Zoë didn't believe him. She didn't think it possible until she got to the dining room and saw Mal sitting with a mug in his hand. He met her eye once, and his expression told her everything.

Mal spent most of that night sitting on the bridge, and Zoë stayed where she could see the corridor, making sure no one bothered him. There was steady traffic to Inara's shuttle as the rest of the crew said their goodbyes, but Zoë didn't join in. She didn't think she could look at the Companion without doing something violent.

By the next morning, Wash had talked Zoë down enough that she was able to join the rest of the crew in the cargo bay. Mal wasn't there, and when Jayne asked where the captain had got to, no one answered; it seemed the mercenary was the only one who hadn't clued in on the situation. Zoë shut him up with a look.

Inara did her last round of hugs as the Alliance workers carted her belongings away. She settled for a cold handshake from Zoë, then turned toward the airlock door. She stopped just before she stepped through, looking over her shoulder at something in the back of the bay. A sad smile spread across her face.

Zoë followed her look; Mal was up on the catwalk, watching with a stony face. He didn't acknowledge Inara's smile; he just turned his back and disappeared through a dark hatch.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations  
sōng shŭ: squirrel  
sāobī: bitch

* * *

**Epilogue**

As the airlock door closed behind Inara, Zoë quietly left the cargo bay. She wanted to get to Mal before the others did.

She found him sitting at the dining room table, his hands folded together in front of him. He didn't look up when she sat down next to him.

"I guess we ought'a go someplace, huh?" he said after a while, his voice low and quiet.

Zoë nodded. "You got anything in mind?"

Mal hardly moved, but his eyes cast around as if looking for an idea. "Ah, hell, Zoë. I don't much care."

Zoë looked down at her hands and blew her breath out her nose. Seeing the captain like this made her want to go one place – back to that Alliance ship, so she could take the captain's pain out on the woman who'd caused it.

"Sir, it looks like the Alliance ain't so hot on our tail. Maybe we ought'a go back to familiar ground, see what's happenin'."

"Persephone?"

"Might as well. See what Badger's got cookin'."

Mal nodded. "All right. Tell Wash." He stood up, but then he wavered slightly, and had to pause with a hand on the back of the chair to steady himself. Under the healing bruises on his face, he looked pale.

"You feelin' all right, Captain?"

He drew in a deep breath, but gave her a look of warning. "Don't start," he said shortly, but both his glare and his voice were lacking in their usual threat, like he didn't have enough left in him to get properly defensive.

"Maybe you ought'a see the doc," Zoë said.

"Seen him already. Nothing wrong with me."

He seemed short of breath; there sure as hell was something wrong with him. Zoë shifted in her seat, tempted to get up and haul him down to the infirmary, kicking and screaming if necessary, but she stayed where she was. It never helped to force Mal into anything.

"Lunch ain't for a few hours," she said. "Why don't you grab yourself a nap?"

"Good idea," he said. He forced in a few deep breaths, then straightened and turned to leave. Zoe watched him, noticing how he raised an arm to his chest on the way out, like something pained him.

Could be Zoë was right, that a nap was all he needed. Just some rest to get him back on his feet; he was barely staying up as it was.

Mal climbed down into his bunk, slipping off the last rung awkwardly and clinging to the rail to hold himself upright. He leaned around to hit a button on the panel, and the door swung shut above him.

He thought he'd be all right once he had a little space to himself in the privacy of his bunk, but it wasn't working that way. He couldn't breathe. Not enough. The feeling was familiar, but he couldn't place it; he was having trouble thinking clearly. He reached toward his bed, just got a hand on the edge of it when his legs gave out and he fell to his knees on the deck. Everything he'd been holding back, everything that he should have felt when he saw her smile at him on her way off his ship and out of his life, tore loose. It fell out of him and onto him with crushing weight.

His chest felt hollow, emptied out. Like he had a furrow from the base of his throat to the pit of his stomach, a gouge cut with a dull knife. But the wound didn't sting; it ached. And it didn't bleed out; it pulled everything in. It sucked his breath away, sapped his strength, weakened his will. He fell onto his side and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hold the wound shut, to keep it from devouring him whole.

All the bad times he'd had in his life, he'd never felt like this. A vague thought rose in the back of his mind:

_What the hell's happening to me?_

The answer came in his own voice, speaking harshly into the turmoil in his mind: _You're a fool, Malcolm Reynolds. You're a mean, hollow, empty man. You don't know how to love. You lost that long ago._

There was a sliver of truth in that. But he'd tried his best; he'd had his chance and he'd given her all he had, put his own self aside and tried to do for her.

_You ain't got enough lovin' for any woman, especially not that one. Gorram fool. You never even told her._

Mal clutched himself tighter, and felt regret hit him so hard that he had to swallow back bile. He'd never told her that he loved her.

_It's too late for you. You'll grow old and bitter, and die all alone. Your pathetic life won't mean a damn thing in the end._

But she loved him, she'd said it.

_She left anyhow, and she's never coming back. How many empty years between now and whatever death you got waitin' comes for you? _

He groaned at the idea of living this life of his for another forty, fifty years. And he was suddenly certain that he would. He'd live to be old and grey, till everything hurt, till his body didn't work right, and he'd have no one to help him get around. The verse was cruel enough to do that, to make life so ruttin' hard and then force him to live on and on while all the others died or went away.

_This moment right now, this is your life. It'll always be like this._

He felt himself sinking into despair, but another voice spoke up in his head, way in the back, hard to catch. He stilled himself, closed his eyes, and found that he could hear it, if he listened to the calm underneath the pain.

_This ain't right; this feeling ain't right. Inara leavin' should hurt, but not like this. _

This voice was also his own, but it vied with the other.

_Something's wrong, something's broken. In my head. I gotta fight it._

_Give up. She left you. She knew you got nothin' to offer._

_Maybe, but this still ain't right. It shouldn't be this bad. _

_You'd never love her proper. You ain't whole enough for that. _

_I gotta make it stop, push it aside…_

_You ain't got a hope. She knew it, and you know it too. Not a hope at all._

…_gotta get through this…_

The argument faded as the chasm in his chest grew, swallowing both voices. It was pointless to fight anyhow. No matter which side won, he couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't call for help, couldn't eat a bullet to make it stop, couldn't move, couldn't even think anymore. He could only lay still under the smothering weight of his grief until the emptiness inside took over.

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë did what she could to help Wash make dinner, although cooking had never been her thing. They didn't talk, but exchanged reassuring touches as they moved around the galley. There was no denying that tension ruled this ship right now, and Zoë was grateful that things with her husband were smooth and she had him to lean on.

The rest of the crew began to gather, taking their seats but staying quiet. Inara's sudden leave-taking had left most of them somewhat in shock. Even Jayne held his tongue, though he folded his arms and did some scowling like he was annoyed with the whole damn thing. Simon started to take a seat next to Kaylee, but he stopped when she turned away from him. He moved to the other side of the table, where he stared at the mechanic with an expression that held just a hint of the longing that had been pouring out of River ever since that boy Jase left the ship.

Great. Just what Zoë needed, more messiness amongst the crew.

She watched for the captain. She didn't really expect him to show; in fact, she thought she might not see him for a while. He had his wounds to lick. When he did get back to the ship's business, it wasn't going to be fun. Zoë'd seen Mal with his heart torn out before, and it didn't make him a nice guy. She was going to have her hands full, keeping this boat afloat.

Of course, that wasn't the thing that bothered her most. She felt a hand squeezing her own, and looked up to see Wash standing beside her with a look of understanding. He knew all about it. Mal wouldn't be pleased that she talked to Wash, but she'd had to tell him. She'd need her husband's support to give her any chance of getting Mal through what Inara'd done to him.

Inara. Just thinking of the woman made Zoë's blood heat up. Inara may have had her own troubles, but there was no excuse for using the captain like she had. Zoë just hoped the woman planned on keeping herself in the Core. She didn't like to think of what she'd do if she ever saw Inara again.

"So… where we goin'?" Jayne asked once Wash and Zoë had joined everyone else at the table.

"Captain wanted to head back to Persephone, check in with Badger," Zoë explained. "Seems the Alliance ain't on our backs, so we can go out in the open again, get some real work."

"Should have done it," River said softly. Zoë turned to the girl, who was staring off into space with a look of intense regret.

"Done what, River?" Zoë asked, a little annoyed at having to deal with the girl's ravings now.

"Should have had sex with Jase," River said firmly. "At least the captain got to have sex with Inara before _his_ heart broke." She dropped her head in her hands dramatically, then pitched forward over the table. Simon looked at her like he couldn't decide between horror and pity, then he settled on carefully moving her hair off of her full plate before he slid it out of the way.

"Mal – and Inara?" Jayne asked in disbelief.

Zoë cut him off quickly. "Jayne, you say one thing to Mal about this and you won't be _doin' it_ with anyone ever again, you got me?"

Jayne gave her a perplexed look. "What's the big deal? Cap'n got some, that's more than most a' the rest of us lately. Huh – with Inara, too." He tipped his head to the side with a look of begrudging respect. "Wonder how he managed that."

"Jayne, I ain't telling you again," Zoë warned, then she looked around the table, making sure that everyone got the message. "Mal ain't in the best mood right now, and he's like to take it out on anyone who volunteers as a target. Mind your own business."

"Not necessary," River said quietly against the table top, but no one paid her any mind.

Jayne gave Zoë a dark look, then he returned to his food. "Damn, I'm sick of bein' out here," he grumbled. "Slinkin' around the gé zhi wō of the 'verse's got everyone in such a gorram bad mood."

"I myself will be glad to see Persephone again," the Shepherd interjected with an obvious desire to change the subject. "It's early spring at the docks, and we should be in time for some festivities, if I recall correctly." He looked toward Kaylee with a smile, as if hoping for some support. "The fair rides are quite good, or they were last time I was there during the season."

Kaylee just shrugged noncommittally. "I guess." Then she looked a little hopeful. "If the shops're open I can get a few things for the mule. To go with the stuff Xiaojun brought…" She was looking around the table, and when she caught Simon's eye her voice trailed off. Simon looked away too, then his attention settled on River. He laid a hand on her back.

"Did you hear that?" he asked his sister. "You always liked rides – "

"Don't care," she mumbled without raising her head. "Missed my chance. I'll never get another one, and some other girl's going to get him!"

"To hell with rides!" Jayne said. "I'm just lookin' forward to havin' some real work. Can't wait to get back to some normal old-fashioned crime."

"Sounds good!" a voice behind Zoë replied. She turned around – the captain was coming down the steps, his clothes a little rumpled, like he'd just woken up. "I'm lookin' forward to some wholesome crime myself," he said cheerfully. "The kind we do, not the kind done on us."

Mal took his seat, seeming not to notice that all eyes were fastened on him, and a few faces were twisted in confusion. "Do you mind?" he asked Book, pointing to a serving bowl halfway down the table.

"Oh – not at all," the Shepherd replied. He handed the bowl over and Mal plopped a few healthy spoonfuls of protein onto his plate.

"Bout that crime, Jayne," he said. "What d'ya say to a bank heist? I ain't robbed a bank in a good long time. Could be fun."

"Uh – sure, Mal. Always did like banks. They got all that…money." The mercenary looked at Zoë and shrugged, like he was asking her if he was doing all right.

Mal picked up a tidbit with his chopsticks, but then he paused thoughtfully. "Or anything with a vault. A cat burgler kind'a job. Hey, Doc, we could get some use out a'your sister there." He looked at the pile of hair and elbows next to Simon. "You wanna earn your keep climbing walls and danglin' on the end of a rope, little one?"

"Okay," River answered, still without lifting her head. She didn't seem bothered by Mal's act, but it turned Zoë's stomach. She leaned toward Mal, and spoke softly.

"Sir, you don't need to do this."

"Do what?" he answered, not even trying to match the low level of her voice.

Zoë looked around at the crew. She'd really prefer to talk to Mal about this in private.

"What, Zoë? If you got somethin' to say, cough it up and spit it out."

"Thanks for the visual, sir," Zoë replied dryly. He looked at her expectantly, but she didn't go on. She wasn't going to air this in public, as much as she wanted to know what the hell had gotten into him.

But she didn't have to wait until after lunch to find out; Kaylee spoke up for her. "We know you'll miss her, Cap'n," the mechanic said in a small voice. "We all will. You don't gotta act like you won't."

Mal glanced around the table, then he half-smiled like he thought there was a practical joke being played. His eyes finally settled on Kaylee.

"Miss who?"

Kaylee frowned in confusion. "Um – Inara."

Mal looked around at the crew again, then set down his chopsticks and leaned back with a lopsided grin. "Okay, I'll bite. Who's Inara?"

The crew looked at each other. No one replied except for River, who finally lifted her head and looked at Simon.

"See?" she said. "Broken."

.*. .*. .*.

Translation  
gé zhi wō: armpit


End file.
